


Absolute Boyfriend Stiles!

by ReedMeme



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Androids, Angst, Based on Japanese manga, Blowjobs, Comedy, Dubious Consent, F/M, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Masturbation, Misunderstandings, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels, Pining, Polyamory, Romantic Comedy, Scent Kink, Scent Marking, Scenting, Science Fiction, Silly, bad english accents, cum spray, it's a thing apparently, ridiculous fantasies, technosexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2017-12-22 21:29:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 66,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/918222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReedMeme/pseuds/ReedMeme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles gets an android.  A really hot android.  A really expensive one too.  The android gets attached to Stiles while everyone else (especially certain people) gets jealous and suspicious.  Stiles deals with having an eager android experiencing life and a really nosy pack.  But is something sinister afoot?  Afoot and a half, perhaps?  What is this archive?  How can Stiles afford a biologically realistic android?  Will Peter be less creepy?  Will Derek be less angsty?  Will Stiles spaz out at some point?  Yes.  Yes he will.  </p><p>     Silly high jinx ensues.  Misunderstandings abound.  Sexual frustration aplenty.    </p><p>     [Based on the Japanese manga of the same name.  Just based on.  Like "Based on a true story" but really, the only true thing about it is that the story is set in the same planet or something.]</p><p>[IMPORTANT Writers note:  This story is unfinished (and I don't know if I ever will finish it), but as a lame bite of consolation, Chapter 15 is a short summary of what could have been and how it ends.  So start this fic at your own risk.  Sorry.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bwuuuh?

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of a silly story. I wanted something fun and absurd to write about. Tags will be updated as the story progresses. Honestly, I don't have this one planned out or anything, so not quite sure where it'll go. Marking it as "Mature" just in case.

     Stiles was not amused. 

     This was not the deal.

     This was a holy-crap-you've-gotta-be-kidding-me-cause-if-you're-not-then-I'm-totally-screwed kind of deal. 

     After all, who actually reads those ridiculously long terms of service things?  And how misleading is it to name a contest "Win an Android" when all you've actually won is the "opportunity to own" an android.  A twenty million dollar android at that.  Twenty.  Million.  American.  Dollars.    

     But when Stiles found that hilarious website that claimed they built "Biologically Realistic Androids" and a contest to "win one", of course he entered.  Who wouldn't?  Free android!  For one thing he never thought that "Biologically Realistic Androids" were actually a thing.  A real thing.  Perhaps in the future Stiles thought they could be.  But that was the future where the Enterprise D was out exploring the Alpha Quadrant and fighting the Borg Queen and he was in the holodeck petting tribbles.  Not now.  In Beacon Hills of all places. 

     It was an absurd idea.  Ridiculous!  But he thought it would have been totally cool if he actually got one in the remote chance that it was all real.  After all Werewolves turned out to be real, didn't they?  So he entered the contest giddily.  It was really easy to be giddy about it.  Especially when these "Biological Androids" were marketed as "Absolutely Perfect Mates".  It was also totally cool that you had the option to design how you wanted your android to look and act like. See, that's when Stiles came up with the idea.  He thought it was hilarious.  A joke really.  He personally thought it would be funny as hell if he made a really hot Derek-look-alike but with a far superior, and sunnier, disposition.  And who spoke six languages.  And spouted poetry.  And cooked really, really well.  It was a game.  It wasn't supposed to be real.  Or expensive.  It was going to be a hilarious tool he would use to play pranks on the pack.  On Derek.  He was coming up with tons of ideas that involved irritating the Sourwolf with his very own machine man.    

     Most importantly, it was free.

     It was supposed to be free!

     To be fair, it was.  For seventy two hours. 

     Stiles sighed, "I really need to read the fine print."

     "Yes, you really should."  The snide lady in gaudy blue said.  "I mean, who actually believes that anyone would give out a twenty million dollar android for free?"

     "It said win!  And... and, free!"  Stiles squeaked, hands gesturing wildly.  "It's false advertising." 

     "It's also detailed in the contract you signed."  She replied, pushing a document across the table towards Stiles. 

     Stiles groaned out loud and buried his face in his hands.  He didn't need to look at the sheets of paper in front of him.  At this point, he already read it a hundred times.  Even now they would still say the same thing, however much he wished it were otherwise.  He had already read it.  After he had already signed it.  I mean who really reads those agreement document things?  He didn't do it for his iTunes account, why the hell would he do it for this?  That day would be forever etched into his brain.  But who could blame Stiles?  The awesomeness of it all was far, far too distracting to think properly at that time.  After all, he had just gotten his very own android.    

 

**3 Days earlier**

     It was an unassuming morning.  It was bright, sunny, and light wisps of clouds dusted the sky.  It was the kind of morning when you could hear song birds twittering away and children laughing in the streets.  Really, one of those ominously perfect days when you should really suspect that something so perfect probably was foreshadowing something really awful.  Sure enough, at half-past seven in the morning, a large jet black trailer pulled up in front of Stiles' house and half a dozen dull-colour suited men, and one blue-pant-suited woman, marched into his front door as he was making his way out to school. 

      The first thought that crossed Stiles' mind was _OMG MEN IN BLACK!  WILL SMITH IS HERE TO ERASE MY MEMORY!_   The first remotely rational thought that crossed his mind was _I'm hungry._

     "Mr. Stilinski I presume?"  The pant-suit woman asked, stepping forward with a smile and a hand extended for a greeting. 

     Stiles took her hand warily into his own and narrowed his eye in suspicion as he raked his eyes across the unsmiling men and creepily smiling woman in front of him. 

     "Who's asking?"  He asked. 

     "I'm Veronica Betty, liaison for BiTeck Industries.  I'm looking for Mr. Stilinski.  A Mr. Zep-"

      "Bwah!" Stiles suddenly yelled, waving his hands in the air and making an obscene amount of noise, startling the woman.  "Stiles.  Stiles.  You can call me Stiles.  What do you want and how do you know that... that... name?"

      The lady chuckled and smiled at him gleefully.  "Well Mr. Stilinski, I believe you entered a contest that we held online last month.  I am here to personally inform and congratulate you on winning.  Not to mention I am also here to deliver your prize." 

      Stiles perked up at the word 'prize' and a wide smile spread across his face.  "For real?  That was a real contest?  I thought that was a joke.  You mean I actually won?"

     The lady laughed with him as she snapped her fingers.  Stiles heard the rear of the trailer open with a loud groan and two men came out pushing a long, rectangular, silver box. 

     "That's correct Mr. Stilinski, you did."  She said while reaching into her suit and pulling out several folded pieces of paper.  "All we have to do is confirm your identity and go over this document, and everything should be fine." 

     Stiles was busy grinning at the silver box being pushed his way when he almost missed the woman talking about confirming identities and singing documents.  The words tore the smile off his face and he once again narrowed his eyes in suspicion.  "Wait, this is one of those ID theft scams isn't it?  I give you ID, I tell you crap about myself, and I sign away my house?  Next thing you know I'm left having to dance at a truck stop strip bar to pay the rent for the rat infested one bedroom apartment next to the airport that my drug addled father and I share, but owned by a dirty old Greek guy who likes to smear yogurt all over my body for fifty percent off the rent."

     Blue-lady just kept on grinning and reached once more into her suit to pull out an ID.  "I assure you Mr. Stilinski, this is not a trick, and I am not a dirty old Greek hotelier aiming to smear yogurt on your nubile (Stiles raised an eyebrow at the word) body.  Here's my ID, and feel free to confirm it with whatever means you deem necessary.  Also, you don't have to use any government issued ID, your school ID will be fine.  Please, feel free to inspect the product."

     Snapping her fingers, the two men pushed the tall casket in front of Stiles and let it stand horizontally.  Veronica stepped towards the casket and ran her hand along the side, her fingers pressing a non-descript button Stiles never noticed.  The casket made a popping sound before she pulled it open and revealed a body that looked exactly like the one he had designed for the contest. 

     "Oh my god!"  Stiles exclaimed, the smile once again finding itself front and centre on his face.  "You've got to be kidding me." 

     "I assume the model is to your satisfaction?"  He barely heard her ask, so enthralled by the thing in front of him.  "Now if you would just present your ID and go over these documents, I can leave the specimen in your care." 

     But Stiles was only half listening.  His mind was already racing at the possibilities of the thing before him.  This was a thing in fantasy.  In scripted television.  This was a thing not possible in real life, yet here it was in front of him.  The absurdity of it all floored him.  It probably shouldn't have considering the lifestyle he shared with his furry companions.  But there he was, being floored.  He quickly pulled out and presented his student ID and took the document in Veronica's hands to quickly sign on the marked line without even bothering to look at all of the disclaimers typed out. 

     "Mr. Stilinski, you really should-"  Veronica began to say but was interrupted by a squealing (not that he would admit doing it) teenage boy. 

     "Inside!  Bring it inside, before the neighbours see."  He said, all the while feeling relieved that his dad was working overtime at the station and the streets were empty of nosy gawkers. 

     The set up was simple enough.  After depositing the android on his bed, Stiles insisted, he was given a brief explanation on how the android worked and how to turn it on.  Apparently you turned it on with a kiss. 

     Stiles laughed at the irony of it all. 

     The rest of the explanation was drowned out by the blaringly loud thoughts that rushed through Stiles mind.  Most of them doing silly things to the pack using the android he now owned.  So when Veronica finished her explanation and asked Stiles if he had any questions, he just shook his head and lead them out of the door, excited to play with his new toy. 

     Half an hour after they left, Stiles was already wishing that he had listened to Veronica's explanation.  The instruction manual she had left behind was longer than he expected.  Or rather, longer than his ADHD could tolerate.  But he wasn't about to risk breaking his new toy with his impatience.  It took him a little while to figure out what he needed to do, which he narrowed it down into two important things.  Stiles wrote the rest off as useless techno-babble-gibberish.   

     1.)  He had to introduce himself so the android would be familiar with his voice and name, as well as 2.)  He had to kiss the android to activate it. 

     It seemed simple enough. 

     What wasn't simple was the apparent capabilities of the android.  Not only did it already hold an insurmountable amount of data on an extensive variety of topics, but it was also capable of a complicated form of comprehension that enabled it to gain new knowledge.  It also ran on a unique energy source that involved the consumption of organic matter.  The science behind the conversion of said matter into energy was beyond Stiles' level of comprehension.  What he did gather from it was that 1.) android ate to be alive, and 2.) android turns what he ate into energy but doesn't poop.  It apparently converts it into a gas.  Sublimation, is what Stiles knew it as from chemistry class.  Apparently his android was going to be really gassy. 

     The most disturbing aspect of the android was its capacity to wirelessly connect to a virtual library that it could access to not only research and comprehend new ideas, but upload and share the knowledge it gained onto the virtual library for future androids as well. 

     Stiles couldn't help but be a little bit freaked out by that fact.  It hit a bit too close to Terminator territory than he would have liked.  But one look at his android, _his_ very own android, and all his concerns flew out of the window. 

     The android was taller and heavier than Stiles, standing at six foot two and apparently weighing in at one hundred ninety pounds.  His hair was jet black and curtained, swept over to one side.  His cheeks and jaw were sharp and chiselled but neat, unlike the perpetual stubble that Derek wore on his.  In turn he looked younger than Derek, as was Stiles' intention.  In fact, his android could probably pass as an athletic senior in high school.  His eyes were a deep, sapphire blue, and his lips were a rich, if not slightly pouting, red.  Gathering from the tight fit of the white spandex he wore, he was quite muscular too.  It didn't look exactly like Derek, but it was as close as he could manage (and as close as he could comfortably admit to himself he wanted the android to be).

     Lifting the android's shirt up to check, Stiles confirmed the extent of his android's musculature.  A confirmation that involved a level of caressing that would be inappropriate if done in polite company.  Thankfully the innocent eyes of Mr. Brown, his teddy bear, had been safely stored in the attic since he was thirteen.     

     He took a deep breath and moved towards the android propped up on his bed and pressed a nondescript bump just behind its earlobe to switch it on.  The moment he did the android's eyes and mouth flew open. 

     A female computer voice came out of its mouth.  "Vocal confirmation required to activate the drone."

     Stiles' excitement was reaching a fever pitch, bubbling out of him in random high pitched squeals.  "Uh, hi.  I'm Stiles."

     "Vocal confirmation accepted.  Lip lock required."  The voice said as the android's mouth closed.   

     Stiles laughed at the request.  Apparently kissing the thing was required to bind the android to Stiles.  He couldn't help but think it seemed an awful lot like something a Disney prince would do.  But in Stiles' case, he felt a little bit pervy.  He always did think that the Disney solution of making out with unconscious women to heal all their ills bordered on bad-touching. 

     But in this case, Stiles just shrugged and leaned forward to touch lips with the android.  He was surprised to find them warmer and softer than he expected.  The moment he pulled away the android's mouth flew open once more and its eyes began to glow with a bright green hue. 

     "Lip lock confirmed.  Software update in progress.  Estimated time of completion is seven hours and fourty minutes."  The computer voice said. 

     Stiles groaned at the announcement and checked the time on his cell... and found out it was half past eight and he was really late for school. 

     He ran out of the house in a panic, making sure to close his door as he left the house and quite confident that his father wouldn't just waltz in when he wasn't there, and headed to school. 

     He made it just in time for homeroom to finish and exceptionally relieved to find that Coach Finstock didn't even realize that he hadn't been there.  But Scott did and made a beeline straight towards Stiles when the bell rang after spotting him in the doorway peeking in during the last minutes of homeroom.

     "Did you sleep in again?"  His friend asked.  "I had to like fake your voice when Finstock took attendance.  You're lucky he doesn't care."

      "Awesome, thanks man!"  Stiles said gleefully and threw a hand around his friends shoulder. 

      Stiles looked around themselves and pulled his friend close before whispering low and conspiratorially.  "Look, I gotta tell you something.  Something big.  Huge.  Humongous.  Colossal.  Like, Honey Boo Boo big."

     "Who?"  Scott asked, scrunching up his face.

     "Never mind.  Look,"  he began but was interrupted as a dark haired figure jumped onto Scott's back and began to nuzzle his neck. 

     "What are you guys talking about?"  Allison asked with a smile as Scott enthusiastically returned her nuzzling with his own.

      "Uh,"  Stiles hesitated.  "Nothing.  I was just talking about Honey Boo Boo."

     Allison scrunched up her face in a curious expression.  "What's that?"

     Stiles sighed heavily, "Oh my god, you guys belong together."

     The second bell rang after their little exchange, and Scott spared the time to give Stiles a significant look that said 'you'd better tell me later cause I'm dying of curiosity' (that last part may have just been wishful thinking on Stiles' part).

     "I'll tell you at lunch."  Stiles said, getting a smile and a nod from Scott. 

     Stiles was practically vibrating in excitement as he counted every second that passed.  He didn't realize he was tapping his pen too loudly and completely ignoring the teacher until Mr. Harris threw a tennis ball at him (where did it come from?) and kicked him out of class.  Or that he was shaking the table too forcefully in Eng. Lit. until Boyd reached down and held his leg still with a clawed hand and a frustrated huff at Stiles. 

     But he couldn't help it.  He had plans!  Massive plans!  Exceptionally hilarious plans!  Most of which involved irritating his pack mates with silly tasks he would be assigning his android.  NO.  Not silly.  Epic.  Glorious.  Stuff of legend sort of tasks. 

     But when lunch rolled around, the opportunity to talk to Scott alone was quashed as Jackson apparently found it the best time to pester Scott with lacrosse talk as co-captain.  Stiles might've resisted the urge to pelt fries at Jackson's big bloated head. 

     And then they had lacrosse practice after school.  At half past four He was about to tell Scott before they all headed out into the field when Finstock popped his head in and yelled at them to do laps around the track for dawdling.  Stiles wished he could say he spent the rest of the afternoon being too distracted with practice to be able to talk to Scott, but the truth was he was too busy sitting on the bench staring at Scott being busy with practice.  At this point Stiles was so wired he was liable to cause earthquakes with the degree he spent vibrating on the bench. 

     He was so wired that he flew off his seat and pushed over the water cooler beside him when he felt a poke on his shoulder.

     "Gwah!"  He yelled.

     "Sorry!"  Allison said, the face of remorse.  "Are you alright?  You seem a bit wound up."

     "It's Stiles,"  Lydia drawled beside her while checking her nails.  "He's always wound up. 

     "Wound up?  Me?  Of course not."  He scoffed, playfully swiping his hand in the air before bending over to pick up the cooler.  "I am cool.  I am the epitome of cool.  I am so far not wound up, I'm practically loose.  I'm a loose canon I tell ya.  I can go off any minute." 

     "What're you babbling about?"  Lydia asked, unable to follow Stiles' train of thought. 

     Allison tilted her head and smiled at Stiles.  "Does this have something to do with what you wanted to tell Scott?  The big thing or whatever?"

     Stiles repressed the urge to smack his face with the palm of his hands, and mentally reminded himself to give Scott a big smack to the back of the head the first chance he got.  Instead he kept it cool, Stilinsky cool. 

     "I don't know what you mean."  He said in as much a nonchalant tone as he could muster, leaning down on the closest flat surface he found.  Which just happened to be the water jug he had placed back on the bench.  The precariously perched water jug that tumbled forward when he leaned into it, causing Stiles to topple on to the ground in a mass of writhing limbs and lacrosse gear. 

     Struggling to get up, he pushed the water jug away from him and staggered to his feet, patting his body of the dirt and grass that now clung to him.

     "Oh wow."  He heard Allison say behind him. 

      Still patting his body of grass and rearranging his lacrosse padding he didn't even bother turning around before replying, "Thank you ladies, I'm here all night." 

     "Well okay,"  He heard Lydia say.  "he'll do just fine.  I can grow to appreciate the whole windswept, James Dean thing he has going with his hair, but the spandex has got to go." 

     Surprised at what he heard Lydia say, he turned around and found the girls staring at a figure in the distance slowly walking towards them.  A figure wearing all white.  A figure indeed wearing white spandex.  A figure that seemed awfully familiar.

     "Oh crap."  He heard himself say as the figure closed the distance between them. 

     It was the android.  And it was walking towards them. 

     Lydia stepped forward confidently, whipping her hair to the side and placed her hands on her hips as the android neared.  Allison on the other hand just tilted her head and repressed a smile that was threatening to spill from her lips. 

     "Hi,"  Lydia began to say as the android walked towards her, but stopped as it passed by where she stood.  She turned to follow him with her eyes, her face the very definition of insulted, as he walked calmly towards Stiles. 

     What happened next was not what Stiles expected to happen. 

     Not at all. 

     Sure he knew it was advertised as "Absolutely Perfect Mates" online, but he never expected the android to do what had happened next.  Stiles will never admit, even under extreme duress, that he thought at any point when he was signing up for the contest that the thought of using the android for desperately romantic, and possibly pervy, purposes ever cross his mind.

     Nope.

     Not at all.

     Never.

     Zip. 

     Maybe just a little bit.

     He was sure it was a legal amount.

     But he still didn't expect the android to find him at school during lacrosse practice, a few feet away from his friends and Lydia, ever-so-beautiful-glorious-goddess-that-she-is-Lydia, and then grab him by the neck and the waist, pull him into its arms and kiss him like they were in their very own Humphrey Bogart movie.

     "Oh my god."  He heard Allison say in surprise.  The very sentiment he was repeating in his head as the android kept on kissing him before letting go and looking lovingly into Stiles' wild, shocked, eyes. 

     "There you are Stiles.  I missed you."  It said in a warm voice. 

     "... bwuuuh..."  Was what Stiles said in reply.     


	2. Uh...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles has a Scarlett moment and gets swept off his feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Response has been great. I've been amused by your comments. I thank you for them.
> 
> Here's a short extra lunch-time chapter as a gift. :P
> 
> I don't know how often I'll update, but I'll try to be consistent. This seems easier to write since I'm just making it up as I go along while being much more light hearted in tone. Lol.

     The thing chuckled.  Not unkind mind you, but a you're-so-silly-Stiles sort of chuckle.  Stiles on the other hand was still standing there gaping like a fish, mouth struggling to catch up with his frustrated brain ("Why are you so slow?", it was practically screaming). 

     "You're so silly Stiles."  The android said, a sweet smile plastered on its face. 

     "Uh..." Stiles began, but was once again interrupted by the android pulling him forward and kissing him passionately.

     This time it was a Clark Gable level of passion, like something Rhett would do.  Stiles eye snapped open as a thought occurred to him.  If he just compared the android to Rhett, did that make him Scarlett O'Hara?  He couldn't help but groan at the ridiculous comparison his brain had come up with.  Except since he was currently lip locked with a certain something, his groan of morbid frustration might have just come off more like a moan of sexual stimulation. 

      And that realization had Stiles pushing the android away.  It seemed to comply quickly enough, pulling Stiles upright (had he been slightly bent down in its arms like in one of those ridiculously romantic moves? - mortification level +1).  It was still smiling though.  This time like a cat with a canary in its mouth. 

     "No don't, I shall faint."  Were the first words out of Stiles' mouth.  He was mentally kicking himself in the head at his absolute stupidity.  He automatically went for a Gone With The Wind reference, but out of context it probably sounded like something a blushing bride in the 19th century would say.  He even ended up saying it breathlessly too, just like that ridiculous woman in that damn movie.   

     "I want you to faint.  This is what you were meant for.  None of the fools you've ever known have kissed you like this, have they?  Your Charles, or your Frank, or your stupid Ashley."  The android answered back before stepping forward again, arms poised to hold Stiles in his arms. 

     "Oh my god!  Stop!"  Stiles flailed, jumping back before the thing could pull him back into its arms.  Stiles didn't expect the android to get the reference, let alone quote Rhett Butler's response.  He could just imagine people's reaction if they heard what he had said.

     Actually he didn't have to. 

     Allison was standing not far beside him staring at them with surprised amusement on her face, her mouth gaping open but her cheeks pulled up in a scandalously amused way.  Lydia was studying them, her head tilted to the side and fingers cupping her chin, her eyes critical and curious.  Stiles was well acquainted with that look.  Stiles knew that look enough to be afraid of it. 

     The worst part was the laughing.  A distant guffaw that rang in the air.  Stiles turned towards the source of the sound and unsurprisingly found Jackson rolling on the ground in a fit of hysterics.  Not far in front of him was Scott staring at Stiles looking scandalized.  Just for a few moments.  It was also the exact moment that Greenburg decided to pass the ball to Scott, who wasn't paying attention, and ended up pelting Scott on the side of the head with the ball, Scott then comically toppling over on the ground as a result but mouth still gaping with surprise (either at Stiles or at getting hit by the ball).  It was no surprise, on the other hand, to see Isaac running towards Scott with concern on his face.  Definitely no surprise to see Jackson laughing harder after witnessing what happened to Scott. 

     Stiles inwardly cursed Werewolf hearing, and muttered something obscene that he hoped the Weres heard too. 

     But the commotion the two Weres were causing on the field was enough to draw attention at what they had been looking at.  The players were beginning to stop what they were doing and were turning to look at Stiles while Coach Finstock began yelling at the players for stopping the play. 

     "McCall, get off the ground.  Shut up Whittemore.  Greenburg, stop assaulting my players.  And Bilinski, stop necking with your boyfriend and pay attention!"  He yelled.  The kind of yell that travelled.  The kind of yell that informed anyone within hearing distance of what was happening. 

     Stiles bristled at the accusation of necking.  He wasn't necking.  Was he? 

     Stiles looked down, not realizing that there were arms around his waist and turned to look at a face that had just been attached to his neck.  Stiles cried out in surprise and flailed backwards.  Apparently his android was quite the expert in the secret art of ninja cuddling.

     "Okay, you stop that now."  Stiles said sternly, fingers pointed up reproachfully.  At least he thought he sounded stern, but gathering from the laughter from the field and the snort of repressed laughter that came out of Allison, it might not have been as stern as he hoped. 

     "Um, Stiles.  Who's your friend?"  Allison asked with a smile.  Thankfully it was a kind smile.  Not the arrogant smirk Stiles imagined Jackson would be wearing if he wasn't busy laughing his ass of in the field.

     Stiles didn't really know what to say, the whole situation caught him by surprise.  He really wasn't expecting the android to show up at school and do what he did (how did he even find Stiles?).  Even more unfortunate were his ridiculous knee jerk reactions to what the android did. 

     "He's Juan!"  Stiles blurted out, and wincing as a result.  "A... foreign... exchange... student?"    

     The thought crossed his mind of introducing the android as Miguel's (see: Derek) cousin.  But the moment the words left his mouth, he realized how ridiculous a thought that was considering the people he was speaking to.  Danny would probably have been the only one who would actually get that line of introduction. 

     But Stiles wasn't thinking clearly at the moment.  He was too stressed out from the dreadfully romantic assault he just experienced. 

     Thankfully he just got an eyebrow raise from Allison and Lydia.  Unfortunately it was short lived as the android turned to face them with a smile.

     "I'm Brad.  I'm Stiles' lover."  It said simply, and a bit louder than it probably needed to.    

     Utter silence. 

     That's the only way to describe everyone's reaction at the announcement. 

     Stiles startled.  He hadn't realized that the Coach, and the other players, had made their way towards him and were now much closer than he would have liked.  Probably close enough to have heard what Brad said.  Going by their dumbfounded reactions, and Finstock's scrunched up face of confusion, they were definitely close enough to have heard what Brad said. 

     "Oh."  Allison replied. 

      She was definitely close enough to have heard what Brad said. 

      Lydia on the other hand was studying something on the ground.  Well, her eyes were zero'd in on something on the ground.  Or something ground adjacent.  Or, at closer inspection and trailing towards the object of Lydia's scrutiny, not ground adjacent at all.  More like staring at Brad's crotch.  A crotch, Stiles realized, was only covered by very, very tight white spandex.  Spandex that hugged the body close and definitely left very little to the imagination.  As it happens, Brad was, apparently, very well endowed and it showed.

     It showed.    

     It really, really did. 

     Obscenely.  It left very little to the imagination.

     Because Brad was apparently _very_ happy.

     The kind of happy that the Parents Television Council would definitely pixelate.  Although Stiles suspects, in the very, very, deep recesses of his sick, sick mind, that Brad's happiness would probably break through any attempts at pixelation with its sheer girth.

     Girth?  Stiles chose to ignore that thought.   

     "I'm very happy to be Stiles' lover."  It said like it were stating a simple fact.  Like it was just announcing to the world that the sun was sunny or that water was wet. 

     _To the depths of hell with this robot's timing_!  Was what Stiles thought, slapping a hand on his face.    

     It was Jackson's burst of ringing laughter that pulled Stiles out of his mortification.  A laughter that was echoed by multiple members of the team.  Disturbingly Coach Finstock nodded his head appreciatively and loudly said something along the lines of 'Nice going Stilinski'.  Scott just kept on staring at him with wide scandalized puppy-Scott eyes.  Isaac echoed Scott's look.  Allison looked a bit confused, if not still kindly understanding.  Lydia was still staring at Brad's crotch. 

      And Stiles was pulling the word-vomit robot away from the gawking crowd.

     "Yeah, okay.  Show's over.  Nothing to see here.  Move along folks!"  Stiles called behind him as he worked to drag the android out of the field. 

     "Where do you wish to go Stiles?"  Brad asked behind him, letting Stiles pull him along, never letting go of his hand.

      "Stiles wishes to go quickly to the parking lot, get in the car, and then head home."  He muttered under his breath.  A breath that was quickly huffed out as he found himself hovering in the air a second after he had spoken.

     He was being carried.  Bridal style.  In Brad's arms. 

     The wolf whistles and Jackson's ringing laughter was clear in the air and Stiles didn't need to look back to know the expression that those people were definitely wearing on their faces. 

     Stiles just buried his face in his hands. 

     _Screw the universe sideways!  This wasn't the plan_.  He thought to himself as he shamelessly hid his face.     

     "Anything for you lover."  The android announced, bounding off effortlessly towards the parking lot in the distance, a groaning Stiles in his arms. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Gone With The Wind quotes come from this scene: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=74kz5K70iAo


	3. Huh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles has a chat with Brad and his dad. Look - that rhymed!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of the wonderful comments. Just because I haven't responded to any of them (as of yet) doesn't mean I don't read them. They're hilarious guys, and I'm glad and flattered that you are all enjoying this series so much. I'll keep this as lighthearted as possible considering the heavier nature of the other story I'm doing. Keep in mind this is just based on Absolute Boyfriend, and that the story will be different (well... obviously since it'll have Werewolves. Ha ha.) 
> 
> Here's another chapter, I hope you guys enjoy this one as well!

     For one long awful moment Stiles was concerned that he would end up being brazenly treated like a particularly one dimensional female character with a particular penchant for shiny vampires.   That would involve stalker-levels of attention, just like what happened in the field.  But how the android acted in the car threw Stiles in for a loop.  When Stiles pointed out the car he half expected the android to insist on driving, but instead he stood Stiles upright next to the driver's side door and dutifully went to the passenger side without making a grand 'ol fuss.  Then during the drive home the android merely stared straight forward, too freakishly still for Stiles' comfort, and made no attempt to even talk to Stiles.  Stiles spent the entire, albeit short, drive half paying attention to the road and half peeking at the android at the corner of his eye.  The only other incident that was remotely romantic in nature occurred after Stiles had parked the car on the sidewalk and the android quickly rushed to his side to open the door and offer its hand to help Stiles down.

     "No, I got it."  Stiles insisted, finding the gesture irritatingly amorous.  Especially with that adoring look that seemed to be the default setting on the android's face.  "I know how to get down without hurting myself."

     Of course that was the perfect moment for the android to not only listen to Stiles but for Stiles to take a misstep and trip and fall, face planting on to the pavement. 

     Quickly pushing himself up and dusting himself off he quickly muttered, "I meant to do that" before marching back into the house. 

     Relieved to find his father's cruiser absent from the driveway Stiles had no reservations bringing the android in through the front door and plopping himself on the couch. 

     "That wasn't the plan!"  Stiles screamed into a cushion before turning to look at the android hovering near him.  "Dude, what the hell were you doing there?  How did you find me?" 

     "Your school calendar on your wall noted you had lacrosse practice four days a week, including Thursdays, at that specific time."  He replied.

     "Okay, yeah, that makes sense.  But how'd you even know where the school was?" 

     "I have detailed maps for the Contra Costa County region of California." 

     "Huh,"  Stiles said, impressed.  "But why'd you go?  How were you able to go?  I thought you were still updating.  And I thought you'd be waiting here for me regardless like a dutiful android." 

     "The update completed and you were still not home.  I was anxious that you were not here.  I missed you."  It said simply, and Stiles swore he heard a note of despondency in its voice.  "The logical course of action then was to find you." 

      Stiles just nodded, not quite sure what to say.  He was slightly disturbed by the android's response, at the apparent humanity his words held.  At most, in his wildest dreams, he expected the android to reach Star-Trek-Data levels of complexity.  But this admission of emotion and apparent capacity for critical thought brought the android more towards Battlestar Galactica levels of sentient-machine complexity.  But Stiles brushed this off as just the product of really convincing human-like-algorithms or some sort.  That the android just had really complex programming that allowed it to replicate human behaviour.  After all, there was no mention of feelings whatsoever anywhere in the website or in the contract that he could recall.  Or at least anywhere he looked.  Although now Stiles was thinking that perhaps he never did quite comprehend the level of complexity behind the tag "Biologically Realistic Androids".  He gathered it was more of a boast than an actual admission of truth.  But he has to acknowledge that as far as realism goes this android certainly was convincing. 

     Stiles stood up and walked towards the android and reached over a curious hand to cup its face and was surprised to find it unusually warm.  Human like.  Brad turned his face into Stiles' hand, as if he cherished the feeling of it on his cheek.  Stiles could feel its breath on his wrist as it angled its head.  The android then gently grabbed his hand with ones of his own and turned to kiss Stiles' wrist.  Stiles pulled back, disturbed by the familiarity the android seems to have towards him. 

     "Right.  We've gotta talk about that."  Stiles waved a hand towards the android.  "That whole public displays of affection thing."

     "I enjoy being affectionate towards you."  It simply said.

     "Yeah well, I don't."  Stiles snapped, but quickly regretted his words after seeing the android startle and looking hurt.  "Okay, a bit of a lie.  But making out with me in public without my consent amounts to some kind of assault.  Yeah, sure okay a part of me deep, deep down, way below the torch I've been carrying for Lydia that not even its light can touch it, may have found it enjoyable.  And yeah, sure you're very good at it.  And yes, you're attractive.  You got the whole James Dean thing without all that brooding and angst, and yet it doesn't seem to take away from your charm.  But stop means stop man.  Would I want to do it again?  Yeah, alright.  Okay, I admit, I wouldn't mind doing that again.  'Cause you know, you're really good at it.  It's not like I'm getting much action with my whole stand-in-the-sidelines-pining-after-something-unreachable thing.  But it's not like I'm saying that I'd want to make out with you just 'cause you're there, cause I'm not.  I wouldn't wanna be a jerk, you know?  I think you're hot.  I mean I would think that, cause I designed you.  Which must be creepy in a Freudian kinda sense, you know?  'Cause yeah, sure I designed you based on something I found attractive.  Maybe even someone who I found attractive, butimnottouchingthatsubjectwithatenfootpole.  And did I chub a bit when you Brando'd me?  Yeah, I admit I did.  So would I do it again?  Sure, why not?"

     Stiles took a breath.  "Okay?"

     Stiles tried to look back at his word vomit, but even he couldn't for the life of him know what kind of point he was actually trying to make.  But Stiles was sure there was a point there somewhere. 

     For a moment, astonishingly, the android looked a bit dumbstruck as if it was having a difficult time processing Stiles' words.  Stiles held back from rolling his eyes.  Of course his blathering could stump an android. 

     But after a few seconds, the android smiled.  A very happy kind of smile.  "If I'm Brando.  Did that make you Eva Marie Saint?" 

     Stiles raised a brow, "what?" 

     "On the Waterfront?  Terry and Edie? 'I coulda had class.  I coulda been a contender.  I coulda been somebody.'"  It said, speaking with a lower voice in the end.  "Brando." 

     Stiles just stared at the android, working out what it was trying to say.

     "Really?  You have seen Gone With The Wind, but you have not seen On the Waterfront?"  It said, smirking with a raised brow. 

     Stiles muttered something about Lydia and an enforced movie night before rounding back on the android with a more determined look.  "That's beside the point."

     "We should watch it together Stiles.  I think you would enjoy it very much."  It said simply.

     "Again, beside the point.  What I'm trying to say is..." Stiles began, squinting a bit, trying to explain his thought process as concise as possible.  "You.  Kiss good.  I.  Enjoy kiss.  But, you-no-kiss-me-whenever-you-want.  I'm a PDA sort of guy, but damn it Brad that was a bit too fast.  I mean the last time I saw you I had just turned you on in my bed." 

     Brad tilted its head and smirked at Stiles.

     "You know what I mean."  Stiles said.  "So, you get what I'm trying to say?"

     "I understand."  It nodded, looking a bit resigned before changing into a more determined expression.  "I have to win you over."

     "Say what now?" 

     "But just so you understand Stiles."  Brad said, taking a step toward Stiles, in a low, husky tone.  "You don't have to win me over.  I'm already yours." 

     Close.

     That's how Stiles would describe the distance between them.  Brad just standing in front of him, taller, looking down kindly, with his breath travelling down to caress Stiles' neck lightly.  Stiles had to suppress a shiver at the sound of Brad's voice and the declaration it had made. 

     "And that's my cue to leave."  He said, stepping back without taking his eye off of Brad.  "I'm going to go and take a shower before heading out to buy some food for my dad.  You... stay here." 

     Walking towards the stairs, Stiles stops as he hears footsteps following him.  Turning around he finds Brad trailing after him.  "What did I just say?"

     "I... don't know what to do."  Brad said, sounding lost. 

     Stiles sights, "like I said, just stay here and... entertain yourself with whatever.  I'll only be about fifteen minutes." 

     Waiting for the nod that eventually followed, Stiles made his way upstairs rubbing his hair in frustration.  The day had been long and exhausting and despite his promise to only be fifteen minutes, he took his time taking off his gear (crap, he forgot to change and leave his gear in his gym locker.  Now he has to go and lug it to school tomorrow.) and staggering to the shower.  Relishing the way the hot water felt on his skin, Stiles let out a low, quivering moan.  Rubbing his muscles and washing the sweat and grime of the day from his skin, Stiles took the opportunity to rub one out as well.  After everything that's happened to him that day, he felt quite entitled to it.  Twenty minutes later, making as much effort as possible to _not_ dress up for reasons he doesn't want to get into, he makes his way down and is bombarded by the most delectable scent he's ever had the fortune of smelling in his entire life.  Warily, Stiles makes his way to the kitchen and finds Brad working on the stove. 

     "What are you doing?"  Stiles asked curiously, his mouth watering.  "And what's that?"

     Turning around, Brad beams at him with a ladle in its hand and his mom's 'kiss the cook' apron around its waist.  "I made dinner for you and your father." 

     Stiles gawks at the android.  "You cooked?" 

     "Yes."  Still beaming, Brad takes a fork full of whatever he had cooked and offered it to Stiles to taste.  "Have a taste."

     Stiles narrowed his eyes suspiciously before leaning forward to take the fork full of food into his mouth before moaning in ecstasy.  "Oh my god.  Oh god.  That's... wow." 

     "You're pleased?"  Brad asked, beaming at Stiles before turning back to the stove and the food it was preparing. 

     "Very.  Very, very pleased.  Brad, that's amazing.  What is it?"  Stiles asked as he stepped closer to look over the android's shoulder. 

     "Carrot spaghetti.  I've also made some hash browns and a Moroccan salad."  Brad replied before moving the dish into Tupperware prepared on the kitchen counter.  "I decided to make dinner for you and your father.  Unfortunately I could not do much with what little you have in your refrigerator.  But I am quite pleased with the outcome."

     "Sho amf hai."  Stiles says as he take a large forkful of the spaghetti into his mouth. 

     "Stiles, you must wait until you are with your father before you start eating." Brad chastises, closing the plastic container before Stiles has another chance to steal another bite.  Then the android smiles, "these dishes are quite healthy.  I know your father's health is of great concern to you." 

     Stiles swallows loudly before asking, "how'd you know that?"

     "It was detailed in the survey you filled out for the contest."  Packing the dishes into a plastic bag, Brad hands them to Stiles.  "These are best eaten while still warm.  You are a good son."

     "Oh... okay.  Thanks."  Stiles smiles, and was about to leave through the kitchen door before stopping to turn back to Brad.  "Umm... are you good here?  Staying here I mean.  I forgot, but you eat, right?  Did..."

     "I also prepared a portion of the meal for myself Stiles.  Although I wish I could share the meal with you, it is no problem for me to eat my meal here.  I shall clean up and wait in your room afterwards."  He replies before Stiles finishes speaking. 

     "Sorry, it's just... I haven't really told my dad about the contest... and I didn't really think..."  Stiles stammers.

     "Stiles, it's alright.  I will be fine.  I will be in your room after I've dined, waiting patiently for your return."  Brad chuckles and seemed to have leaned forward towards Stiles before stopping itself and taking a step back, nodding at Stiles instead.  "I shall see you soon." 

     Hesitating at the door, Stiles just nods back.  He didn't miss the way the android had leaned forward towards him, and Stiles knew that for a moment the android was leaning forward for a kiss but then thought better of it.  Stiles wasn't sure if he was pleased or disappointed that the android had actually listened to his rant earlier. 

     "I'll be back by eight.  Stay out of trouble."  He calls out before rounding the corner towards his car.  "Don't open the door to strangers.  Don't answer the phone.  Do what you want to entertain yourself.  But don't look under my mattress!" 

     Piling the food into his car, Stiles buckles up and drives to the police station, his heart lighter after the pleasant experience with the android.  He hadn't had anyone cook for him since his mother died, not to mention cook well.  Of course, there were the occasional dishes given to them by the old neighbourhood biddies who found the Stilinski widower 'handsome', but that didn't count for Stiles.  Most of all, Stiles was touched that the android had known to prepare healthier food for his father.  He silently agreed to himself that what he now carried was far better than his plan to order take out from their local burger joint. 

     Pulling into the visitor's parking area, Stiles makes his way into the station with a smile. 

     "Hey Trudy, looking good.  Did you do something with your hair?"  Stiles greets the officer at the front desk with a wink and a smile. 

     Beaming, the cop lightly touches her hair and smiles back at Stiles.  "Yes I did, thank you for noticing Stiles.  You're such a charmer.  You're dad's in his office, you just go in honey." 

     "Thanks Trudy."  Stiles said, walking towards the back.

     "Oh Stiles,"  Trudy calls out, stopping Stiles in his tracks.  "Congratulations by the way.  Very nice."  She gives Stiles a wink before turning around. 

     "Umm... okay, thanks?  I guess..."  Stiles smiles, nonplussed.   

     He made his way through the precinct aware of some of the smiles that were thrown his way and just grinned in return.  Some cops even gave him thumbs ups, while some of the female officers were giving him appreciative waves.  Just smiling, albeit a confused one, at the attention he was getting, Stiles waves back before walking into his father's office.  There he finds the older Stilinski busy on the phone.  Not bothering to wait for his father to finish, he clears a space on his father's desk and begins unloading their dinner, his mouth watering as he takes in the scent of the food. 

     His father raises an eyebrow at the meal before him and at Stiles.  "Uh huh, yeah, okay.  Just send them on to Trudy and I'll get right on 'em.  Thanks Charlie." 

     Hanging up the phone, the Sheriff looks at the meal suspiciously before rounding on Stiles.  "What's this?  I thought you were getting us burgers."

     "Correction.  It would have been getting myself a burger while getting a salad for you."  Stiles replies, handing his father a fork and a bottled water he found in the plastic bag.  "This is much better." 

      "Uh huh."  The older Stilinski says, poking at his pasta with a glare before sighing and taking a bite.  His eyes widened and shovels another, bigger, forkful into his mouth.  "Oh my god.  Oh god.  That's... wow." 

     Stiles laughs.  "That's what I said." 

     Tucking in, the two eat in companionable silence before his father turns to look at his son, now working on the potatoes.  "Where'd this come from?"

     "Uh," Stiles sounds, a bit of potato hanging on to his cheek.  His father reaches forward and wipes it with a napkin.  "A neighbour?" 

     "Really?  Which neighbour?"  The sheriff asks, not taking his eyes off of Stiles while taking another bite of the pasta. 

     "Old lady.  From a couple of blocks over.  Has been admiring you for some time.  Mentioned something about a spinster daughter that you might be interested in."  Stiles says as innocently as possible while helping himself to more of the pasta. 

     "Right,"  his father replies, drawing out the vowel in the word.  "Does this old lady happen to look like James Dean in a unitard?"

     Stiles chokes on his food, wheezing while his dad starts patting his back.  "What?"  He gasps, taking a huge gulp of water to clear his throat. 

     His father clucks his tongue before reaching into his pocket and pulls out his phone.  Fiddling with it, occasionally turning to peek at his son, before showing Stiles a picture on his phone.  A picture of someone's back (firm, cheeky butt and all).  A certain someone wearing white spandex.  Wearing white spandex and carrying Stiles in his arms. 

     Stiles blushes.  "That's spandex.  And isn't this illegal?  I'm under aged!  Distributing photos of a minor has to be a felony." 

     "You're not naked."  His father replies, just staring at his son.  "It's not so much the picture, which if given the proper context could be harmless, as much as the gossip that spread like wildfire about an hour and a half ago." 

     "Gossip?"  Stiles mouths, wide eyed. 

     "Something about a, and I quote, 'burning hot guy macking on Stiles'."  He says with a raised brow.  "Right, who's the guy, why is he wearing that, and should I be worried?  And what the hell happened with Lydia?" 

     "Bwuh..." Stiles stammers, dumbstruck.  "Uh..."

     His father just stares at him while slowly raising a forkful of potatoes to his mouth. 

    "Lydia," Stiles burbles, "hot.  Uh.  Me, Stiles, what?  You know?  And he's like.  Hey, yo, no!  And I'm like, that's crazy.  You know.  And then there was laughing, and Scarlett.  Oh dear god, kill me now."  He finishes, smacking his forehead on the table.  Or at least what he intended as the table.  He just smashed his face on the mashed potatoes instead. 

     Of all possible reactions Stiles was expecting, his father laughs instead.  Raising his head in surprise, potatoes dripping from his face, he finds his father smiling warmly at him.  The older Stilinski reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a handkerchief which he uses to clean his son's face. 

     "Calm down Stiles."  His father chuckles.  "It's fine.  Stop over reacting."

     Taking the handkerchief from his father, Stiles finishes cleaning himself up before his father speaks again.  "Mind telling me what's going on?  Are you seeing this guy?  You know... romantically?" 

     "Would it be so bad if I was?"  Stiles hedges.

     "No, of course not.  It's just,"  his father says, squinting at Stiles as if he were working out how to convey his thoughts.  "... he's wearing a unitard." 

     "What?  Seriously?  That's what you're gathering from all of this?  His outfit?  And it's spandex!"  Stiles says. 

     "The guy's wearing a unitard," The sheriff begins but was interrupted by his son, "fine, spandex, whatever, in public.  Point is, that kinda speaks volumes, don't you think?"  He says, looking at his son with genuine concern on his face.

     "So you're fine if, hypothetically, I do end up with a guy.  Just as long as he's not wearing a unitard?"  Stiles repeats blankly.

     "Spandex."  His dad corrects.  "Stiles, believe it or not, I've known you for a while now.  Longer than you've even known yourself, but probably not as well.  At least, not anymore.  But what I do know is that you're a, generally, good kid. But still that, a kid.  A kid who, by the way, seems to find himself in the middle of dangerous situations more often than I would like.  Now this may not necessarily count as one of those, but a strange guy wearing publicly inappropriate clothing and hauling my son off of school in his arms warrants some measure of parental concern.  I mean I get Lydia, yeah.  And maybe even Scott, sure..."

     "What?  Oh my god!  Scott?  What the hell dad?"  Stiles stammers.

     "Well you've certainly know each other longer.  And as the sheriff of a rather small town, I have a tendency of knowing a lot of people.  And I gotta say, gathering from the other photos making the rounds of this, unusually photogenic, guy, he's not really someone I've ever seen before.  At least not around town.  And from what I've heard, the guy was going at ya without your consent and..."

     "Okay, okay!  Stop!"  Stiles begs, flailing his hands forward and wincing at his father's words.  "One, Scott?  No.  Just no.  Two, Lydia?  I wish.  But she's pretty hung up on Jackson.  I still have... feelings... for her, sure.  But honestly dad, I'm... not holding my breath."

     "Stiles..." his dad begins to say kindly.

     "Not finished!"  Stiles interrupts, holding up a finger.  "And the guy's new in town.  And we were just fooling around.  He was pulling a prank on me.  Do you really think I'd just lie there and take it?"

     His father makes a face.

     "Poor choice of words!  I meant... do you think I wouldn't say anything if I found myself in a situation that I found uncomfortable?"  His father makes another face and Stiles nods with a smile.  "Exactly.  It's all good dad, really.  And the guy's new in town.  He's nice.  And actually, he's the one who cooked this for us."  He finishes with a flourish, hands presenting the food a-la-Vanna White.  "I know him.  He's a nice guy.  In fact you'd be surprised with how well I know him.  It's almost like I designed him or something.  But this is totally unwarranted parental concern.  He's a bit eccentric, maybe.  But definitely not dangerous.  He can keep up with me though, and I like that.  This is totally far, far away from any of the so-called 'dangerous situations' that you refer to."    

     "Yeah, yeah.  Okay.  You're right.  With the mouth you've got...  no, you're right."  His father replies, ignoring Stiles' scandalized look at the mouth comment.  "'Sides, he's way out of your league." 

     "Sorry, excuse me?"  Stiles asks, offended.  "What do you mean out of my league?  He's totally not out of my league."

     "He is.  You can do way better."  His dad smiles with a wink.

     Stiles' heart warms at the comment and the smile on his father's face.  He can't help but smile back, and mutters, "thanks dad." 

     Clearing their throats and turning away from each other, the two Stilinskis suddenly became very interested in their food.

     "Wait a minute."  Stiles asks, halting his effort to rearrange the food.  "What do you mean photos?" 

     "Some cheerleaders took cell phone pics of the guy and you together."  His father replies through a mouthful of pasta.  "They've been spreading around.  Half of the women in the station, and some of the guys, are admiring you by the way.  A lot of people are talking about it." 

     Stiles groans out loud, swiping a hand on his face.  "Are you serious?  This has got to be illegal.  Like some kind of mean, bullying thing." 

     The sheriff raises his brow.  "I've gotten three calls from three mothers asking if you really are dating this guy, and if you're not if you'd be interested in meeting their sons.  That's not including the two parents in the force who apparently had dibs on you dating their kid."  But the sheriff stops and asks, "But, do _you_ feel bullied?"

     "No."  Stiles mutters, blushing furiously at what his father had revealed.

     "Then I don't think it counts as bullying if you don't think it's bullying.  Ten minutes ago I got a call from Mr. Chang congratulating me on your coming out and said he'd drop by the station to give me a casserole." 

     Stiles groans at the declarations.  He didn't realize things were getting so out of control to such a degree that people were now willing to set him up with their kids and making his dad casserole.  Stiles wasn't sure if he should feel flattered or embarrassed to death.

     "But hey, like you said.  _You_ guys were messing around.  If you don't like this, you go ahead and fix it.  As much as I would love to know more about your personal life, I'm getting the feeling that I'd be biting off more than I could chew.  So by all means, sort out whatever you need to sort out first, then we can have more father-son bonding chats about your sexuality.  I have a feeling you're not so much gay, straight, or bi, as much as just unnaturally horny and opportunistic.  I still love you though.  But, honestly, I trust that you've got a handle on things and know when to actually ask for help.  Unless... do you really need my help, son?"

     "No, no, no.  I'm good."  Stiles quickly says.  "Capable of sorting stuff out on my own.  You just go ahead and relax and worry about murders and killers and whatnot.  Leave the hard stuff to me.  Little 'ol, sexually frustrated me." 

     His father rolls his eyes.  "You're really over Lydia?"

     "Nope."  Stiles replies, snapping his lips on the 'p'.  "But hey, I'm keeping my options open."         

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was concerned about whether or not I said something offensive during the conversation between Stiles and his father. If any of you were offended, I apologize and it was not my intention. I know that discussions on sexuality and bullying can be very sore subjects for certain people. I hope that I treated it with enough respect while still keeping in tune with the characterization I've put forward for the characters in the story. ...ummm... did that make sense?


	4. Wuu...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles spends his first evening and breakfast with Brad, then starts the next day with a smooch and a punch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here ya goes. Enjoy. I'll respond to comments soon! Sorry, just rushing to post chapters up on here.

     Stiles' phone buzzes incessantly.  If it isn't a phone call from Scott, it's one text message after another.  Stiles doesn't bother to read them of course, just goes straight to the delete button.  Doesn't even answer the phone, automatically pressing the reject button.  He's peeved of course.  Peeved that Scott had broken the ultimate code of all codes within the bro code. 

     _No bro shall beget bro-trust to suffer by being pussy whipped._

     He did not appreciate Scott going around spilling secrets Stiles never quite told him to Scott's very own Jezebel.  Not to mention Stiles wasn't quite ready to face Scott's ten thousand questions.  He already knew he would have to face him at school the next day, so Stiles would gladly take advantage of this time to procrastinate.. 

     But every time Stiles' cell buzzed, and he automatically hung up, his father gave him a raised brow and a look that said 'you can't run from this forever' but never actually say anything out loud.  Of course Stiles would return that look with one of his own that said, 'mind your own business or it'll be tofu for you for the foreseeable future'.  That usually ends their eye-conversation. 

     The two Stilinskis finished their meal quickly enough, and his father was quite thankful for the very tasty treat.  He doesn't quite believe that Brad was responsible for the food though, no matter how many times Stiles insisted otherwise.  With his father needing to finish his shift, Stiles heads home about an hour and a half later feeling full and much better about himself.  He even got to take home the casserole that Mr. Chang brought down to the station.

     Thankful Stiles had a calming drive before arriving home.  There he finds the house dark and quiet, with Brad in his bedroom seated quietly on his computer chair, poised next to the window, gazing at the night sky.

     "See anything interesting?"  Stiles asks, switching lamps on as he makes his way around the room and towards the android.

     "I never realized."  Brad said quietly before turning back to Stiles.  "It is the first time I've ever seen the stars.  In real life that is.  I have seen them in the archive of course, but it's nothing quite like this."

     "You should see them outside of town, where it's darker.  When my dad and I go camping, I love looking for a huge field and just lying on my back looking up at the stars.  Then with the sound of the wind and the rustling of the leaves, to me, I imagine what it would be like swimming in a sea of stars."  Stiles says, leaning over to look out of the window next to Brad.  "Maybe I'll take you sometime."

     Brad's face lights up.  "I'd like that very much Stiles." 

     The room was silent and only lit by the dim orange glow of lamp light.  Stiles and Brad stare at each other for a moment, letting the wind from the open window caress their skin, only the sound of their heartbeats in their ears.  There was a moment when the two were looking into each other's eyes when Brad leaned in with a look of expectation on his face.  At the last moment Stiles pulls back and straightens up, then reaches a hand to close the window shut and lock it. 

     "Sorry, don't want any unwanted visitors tonight."  He mutters before walking away and towards his closet. 

     "Do you often receive visitors through your bedroom window?"  Brad asked.

     Stiles stopped at his bathroom door and considered the question for a moment.  "More often than I'd expect. Anyway, I'm going to go and take a shower."

     Stepping in before the android could answer, Stiles locks the door and heaves out a sigh. 

     "Stop it Stilinski.  Cold shower it is then."  He mutters to himself before undressing and turning on the tap. 

     A cold shower was just what he needed.  Of course he probably stayed in there longer than he should have, but keeping the shuddering under control certainly did take his mind off of certain things.  Particularly the thing that was lurking on the other side of the door.  Towelling down and then brushing his teeth, Stiles takes a deep breathe before heading out of the door to find Brad still sitting in the exact same spot he was in before Stiles went into the washroom, now staring at him, his lips curving up into a smile.

     "Hello Stiles."  Stiles could see the way Brad's eyes wander down his body before returning to look at him in the eyes.  "You look amazing."

     Suddenly very conscious of the fact that he was only wearing a towel around his waist and that he was suddenly getting really warm, Stiles snaps himself away to shuffle quickly towards his closet. 

     "Right, your turn."  He just says while scrounging for a shirt and some boxers in his dresser. 

     "My turn?"  Brad asks.

     "Shower time.  Go take a shower."  Stiles says, grabbing a spare towel from the drawer and throwing it towards Brad.  "You know how to shower right?"

     "Yes Stiles, I know how to shower."  Brad replies simply before heading into the bathroom. 

     Stiles lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding and quickly unravelled his towel to change, wary of the thin, wooden, bathroom door separating him from the android.  Considering how wired he already was having Brad in his room, Stiles wasn't quite sure how he'd be able to handle the android sleeping in the same room with him. 

     Then a sudden thought struck Stiles. 

     He hadn't really considered until that moment where the android would sleep.  Did Brad power down for the night, like shutting down a computer?  Or does he sleep like a human being?  For that matter, where would he sleep if he did?  Stiles looks down at his bed and then it suddenly dawned on him just how small his bed actually was.  Which is saying something considering it's a queen.  He wasn't quite sure if he would have a problem with that or not.  But taking into account the stirring in his pants, Olgar the Conqueror apparently had no problem with it whatsoever. 

     "Well Olgar, you can go screw yourself 'cause nothin' ain't happenin' tonight."  He muttered to himself then stopped and he hung his head and groaned, realizing the double negative he had uttered.  "Damn you Olgar!  You no good for brain!"  Stiles refused to let the barbarian control him.  No siree. 

     Making his way to the computer to check his email, the lock on the bathroom door clicks and Brad steps out.

     "Stiles, what do I wear?"  Brad asks, stepping into the room naked.

     Naked.

     Olgar stands at full attention. 

     "Wow."  Is what Stiles says, unable to turn his eyes away from the thing in front of him.  The thing that apparently even spandex couldn't do justice.  "You're naked."

     "Yes.  I have no clothes except for the laboratory supplied garment."  Brad says, looking down at his naked body.  "I believe wearing soiled clothing would defeat the purpose of my bath.  What should I wear?"

     Stiles couldn't speak, he was also having a difficult time looking away.

     "Are... you disappointed?"  Brad asks, looking at Stiles' curious reaction.

     "I... wha... huh?"  Stiles asks coming out of his daze.

     "Are you not satisfied with my appearance?"  Brad asks, real concern in his voice.

     "Wuwuwu...wuu... ummmm... huh?" Stiles stammered, becoming increasingly aware of the uncomfortable problem in his boxers.  His shifts his weight on to the other foot and bends his knees slightly, in the process drawing attention to his litt---respectable and slightly bigger than average- problem. 

     The android turns its gaze to Stiles crotch and the concerned look vanishes to be replaced with a relieved smile.  "Then it seems I am satisfactory.  May I use some of your clothes?"  It says simply. 

     It takes Stiles a few minutes to process the request, having a hard time tearing his concentration away from the fantastic way Brad's damp hair seem to cling to his head - stamping down the desire bubbling up in him to step forward and just run his fingers through them. 

     "Feel free."  Stiles manages a breathy squeak and a sharp nod.

     Stiles did not follow the naked android with his eyes as he crossed the room to the dresser.  Stiles also did not stare at said android's scrumptiously well-rounded and rosy ass as said android bends over to open said dresser.  Stiles definitely did not rearrange himself in his boxers as his cock strained to pop out.  Stiles definitely did not march into the bathroom, run the cold water in the sink and then submerge his head under it. 

     Sure his head may be soaked and his shirt now slightly damped, and yes he may be wiping his hair with the spare towel in the towel rack while trying to control his breathing.  But Stiles insists that those things never happened. 

     Exiting the bathroom-that-Stiles-was-not-in, he finds the android sitting on the bed, its back leaning against the wall, staring expectantly at Stiles.  The android had found one of the too-large shirts he'd gotten as a Christmas present from one of his aunts.  It had a graphic of a fluffy cat wearing a Santa hat.  He was also wearing one of Stiles' boxers.  Stiles tried not to stare too long.

     "This was the only shirt that I calculated would fit me properly.  It is sufficient, don't you think?" The android asks. "Shall we go to bed?"   

     Stiles works hard not to gawk, a not-a-damp-towel-he-used-to-dry-himself-after-running-his-head-under-cold-water-after-doing-something-he-didn't-do still on his head. 

     "You know, it actually never occurred to me where you'd be sleeping.  I just," Stiles shrugs, "I don't know, figured that you'd power down for the evening or something.  I didn't really think... right biologically realistic androids... so you sleep right?  Or do something similar to sleeping?  Or just make it look like you're sleeping?" 

     Still smiling, Brad responds with an eager voice, "Oh I do sleep Stiles.  I'm capable of many things that a human being is capable of.  I have a program to replicate human sleeping patterns.  I even have the capacity to experience REM sleep.  I'm quite excited, I've never slept before.  I am especially excited with the prospect of sleeping in the same bed as you." 

     "Right."  Stiles says, drawing out the vowel.  "See this is going to be a bit of a problem.  See, I never quite... told... my dad that I got you.  Or that you're here.  In my bed.  Telling me that you're ready to sleep with me.  So that's a bit of a problem.  I don't know.  I just thought, or rather expected, that this whole thing would be like me playing with a toy.  Honestly, I wasn't really expecting... you, when I signed up for the contest.  Not really.  And I got so caught up with the whole day that I kinda haven't spared a thought about afterwards.  Afterwards like now." 

     "Do you not want me here?"  Brad asks, disappointment in his voice, and perhaps a twinge of fear.

     "No, no."  Stiles saw the look on the android and silently kicked himself in the head, working to amend his words.  "No, I mean yes.  Or maybe, no.  Yes.  Wait, I don't know.  Yes.  Yes... definitely yes.  Dammit, I want an android!" 

     Brad looked confused.

     Stiles was really confused.

     "Look, sorry.  Uncharted territory here.  But yes Brad.  I want you to stay here.  You can stay here.  We'll... figure something out.  About my dad and everything.  But right now, bedtime I guess.  Well, not for me.  Not just yet.  I've got homework to do for tomorrow so... feel free to start."  Stiles said, frazzled.

     Brad nodded with a smile on his face and scooted down on the bed, above the covers, to lie down and close his eyes.  Stiles stared at him for a minute before turning to the computer to start on his homework. 

     "Stiles?"  He heard a faint voice behind him.

     "Yeah?"

     "You're going to be here when I wake up right?"  The android asks. 

     "Yeah buddy, I'll be here."  Stiles replies.  "Go to bed, I'll join you in a bit."

     "Good night Stiles."  The android says faintly.

     "Goodnight Brad."  He nods, before getting to work.        

     Stiles woke early the next day.  At least earlier than he usually did.  The clock in his nightstand said it was just after six o'clock in the morning.  Stiles couldn't remember waking up that early that didn't involve going fishing with his father.  Closing back his eyes and relishing the comfort of his bed, he snuggles himself further into his blankets, delighting in the warm, muscular hands that hugged him and the pleasant heat on his back.

     Stiles startles, stopping his pleasant sigh-mid sigh-ing (is that a thing?), a breathe huffing out in shock instead.  He peeks under the covers to find thick arms clutching at his chest.  Carefully and slowly turning his head around, as much as he could, to peek behind him he finds a sleeping android face nestled into his neck.  Stiles could feel Brad's warm, even breathing on his skin and looking as tranquil as can be. 

     _Garsh he's adorable_. Stiles thinks in his mental-Goofy-voice. 

     Well as adorable as the situation can be until Stiles feels something stiff and large poking him in the ass. 

     Stiles then proceeds to flail and tumble off the bed in a tangle of blankets and bed sheets.    

     "Good morning Stiles."  A drowzy android greets him, stretching its arms and letting out a yawn.  "You're certainly awake early today.  What would you like to eat for breakfast?"  

     Stiles scrambles to his feet and brings a finger to his lips.  "Shhh... my dad's next door.  Indoor whispering voice Brad." 

     Stiles waits in the silence for a moment, looking at the wall towards where his father's bedroom was.  After hearing no sound he heaves a sigh. 

     "Umm... yeah... you're hungry.  Um... unfortunately he'll probably be up in like half an hour.  So, sorry Brad.  I can't risk him seeing you downstairs, so no cooking breakfast today."  Stiles says.  "But you know what?  You can have the Stiles special." 

     "What is that?"  Brad asks with a cheerful smile. 

     "It's a surprise."  Stiles says with a wink before heading out the door.

     Quietly sneaking downstairs and into the kitchen, he brews a pot of coffee before taking two bowls from the pantry.  Filling the bowls half way, he cuts up pieces of banana and strawberries before pouring half a bag of M&Ms in each, and then filling both bowls with apple juice.  Taking a pizza pan from the cupboards, he places the bowl and two cups of coffee (more like mostly cream and mounds of sugar with a bit of coffee) on the pan and snuck upstairs and into his room as quietly as he could. 

     "Ta da!"  Stiles says with a smile.  "Breakfast in bed a la Stilinski."

     Placing the drinks in the bedside table and the pan with the bowls on their laps, they dig in to their breakfast.  Stiles relishes the first bite of his food and turns to watch Brad with a grin as the android tries Stiles' concoction.

     The android looked curious for a moment, chewing slowly before turning to Stiles.  "It's very... unusual." 

     "It's awesome right?  What can I say?  I like to spoil my robots."  Stiles says with a wink and another mouthful of apple-juice-banana-strawberry-cornflake-M&M cereal.  

     Brad just smirks at him in turn and digs into his breakfast as eagerly as Stiles eats his. 

     It's not long until Stiles has to hide the extra cup and bowl under his bed, and Brad in his closet, as his father knocks on the door to chat with Stiles.

     "Hey buddy, I have to get to the office soon.  You already had your breakfast?"  The Sheriff asks, looking at the empty bowl and cup on the bedside table.

     "Yep,"  Stiles smiles innocently.  "the Stilinski special." 

     His father's smile turns into a frown and lets out a sigh.  "Stiles, stop calling it that.  It's gross." 

     Stiles looks scandalized.  "You're kidding.  You're crazy old man.  I see senility's finally settling in.  The word you're looking for is 'delicious'". 

     The Sheriff rolls his eyes.  "Yeah, whatever.  I'll be home early today, so why don't I get the takeout this time for dinner, okay kiddo?"

     "Yeah, sure dad.  That's great."  Stiles responds with a smile and a wave before the Sheriff takes off.

     Stiles waits until he hears the cruiser pulling out of the drive before calling Brad out of the closet. 

     "What do we do today Stiles?"  The android asks eagerly, still clutching on to the hand that pulled him out of the closet. 

     "What _I'm_ going to be doing is going to school.  While _you_... well... ummm... you can do whatever you want until I come home this afternoon.  I don't have practice after school so I can be back by three."  Stiles says, aware of the disappointed look on Brad's face.

     "I wish to go to school with you."  Brad says simply.

     "I don't think that's possible.  Look, I'm sorry that I'm going to be leaving you alone for like seven hours.  But I tell you what, you can use my computer _and_ you can play all the games you want."  Stiles says, pointing to his computer and his game consoles.  "I assume you know how to use them, yeah?  The info's probably in your library thingamajig." 

     The hand on Stiles' hand tightens and the boy sighs.  "Okay, look I promise I'll be home and we'll spend time together.  And how about this?  Tomorrow is Saturday, that means no school.  So we can spend the whole day together tomorrow.  How does that sound?" 

     The android's face lights up.  "Yes Stiles I would like that very much thank you." 

     Smiling back, Stiles lets go of the android and readies himself for school.  This time Stiles makes sure to bring a change of clothes with him into the bathroom before showering.  His mind flashing back to the heft that poked at him earlier that morning, Stiles rubs one out as quietly as he could manage, perfectly aware that he had just sexually fantasized naughty things about something that's probably the equivalent of a really complicated toaster. 

     A really sexy toaster. 

     A really sexy toaster with a hefty penis. 

     Stiles rubs another one out for good measure.

     Hot toaster.  Hot. 

     Making sure to bring his lacrosse gear he was about to head out of the door when a hand holds him back.  Turning around he finds Brad clutching onto his arm with a calm look on his face, a slight smile pulling on his lips. 

     "Don't I get a kiss goodbye?"  The android asks, staring into Stiles' eyes. 

     "Umm... remember our conversation?"  Stiles chokes out, looking at the android's moist, red lips. 

     "We're alone in your bedroom.  There is nobody watching.  You're leaving me alone for seven hours.  Please Stiles."  The android begs, stepping closer into Stiles' space.  "Just a little kiss to keep the loneliness at bay." 

     The cogs in Stiles' brain working at overtime (and might be sputtering and fuming with smoke right about now), he manages a quick nod before the android has pulled him forward into its arms, and Brad's soft lips is pressing softly against Stiles' own.  Stiles feels Brad's tongue, soft and moist, brush against his lower lip and he feels himself opening his mouth at the touch.  It reaches inside Stiles' mouth, softly caressing Stiles' own tongue.  The android pulls Stiles tighter against him, a hand now cupping Stiles' head, the other touching Stiles' lower back, the feel of their bulges pressing into each other.  Stiles drops his load before the android pulls back with a smile. 

     By load, Stiles meant his bag and the lacrosse gear that were in his hands. 

     Taking a step back, Brad smiles at him sheepishly.  "Thank you Stiles.  Have a good day at school.  I'll be here when you get home." 

     Nodding more to himself than anything else, Stiles scrambles to pick up his load (GEAR!-gear...) and tottered out the door, all the way to his jeep. 

     Stiles might have been singing the Lip Gloss song on his way to school.  Not that he would ever admit that to anyone.  It would just be between him and the empty air in his jeep.  Pulling into the student parking lot, Stiles' spirits were high.

     "What you know 'bout me?  What you, what you, what you know 'bout me?"  Stiles sings as he steps out of his jeep.

     "I don't know.  I really don't."  A voice behind him says, making Stiles stumble out of his jeep when strong arms catch him before he crashes onto the pavement.

     Looking up into the face of a frustrated Were, Stiles smiles wildly and twiddles his fingers at Scott's face.  "Oh hey buddy.  What's up?" 

     "Stiles."  Scott says, the frustration clear in his face.

     "Scott."  Stiles mimes. 

     "Seriously!  When were you gonna tell me?"  Scott whines.

     "Tell you about what?"  Stiles asks, getting himself up and turned to walk towards the school. 

     Of course Scott has no problem keeping up.  "About you know.  _Him_."

     "Oh, I don't know Scott.  Why don't you tell Allison what I was going to tell you before I even get to tell you what I wanted to tell you but didn't get the chance to!"  Stiles says, hands flailing in the air.

     "What?"  Scott asks, confused.

     Yeah that question didn't really make sense in Stiles' head either. 

     "Wha..."  Stiles begins but is interrupted by sharp piercing nails gripping his shoulder.

     Turning around slowly, he's greeted by the face of a smirking Lydia Martin.

     "Oh... hiiiii Lydia."  Stiles says. 

     "Stiles.  We need to talk."  She says sweetly.

     Stiles gulps. 

     "Yeah... I'd rather not.  Schoolsstartinggottagobye!"  He says quickly before dashing around the girl and towards the front doors, Lydia and Scott calling out his name behind him. 

     "Crapcrapcrap."  He mutters as he sprints to class. 

     Thinking he was almost home free as he nears the doors, a hand shoots out in front of him, clothes-lining him in the chest, causing him to crash to the ground on his back with a grunt.  Stiles blinks above him, a little bit cross eyed, when a smirking long-haired blond crosses his vision to look down on him. 

     Erica smiles at him, twiddling her fingers in his eyes.  "Hi sweetie.  We need to talk."   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda edited. As best as I could anyway. ^_^" 
> 
> To the Far Above the World readers - I'll be updating that soon too. I promise!


	5. Muhahaha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles gets grilled and does Shakespeare. A picnic is planned.

     Stiles gets dragged into an empty classroom by three nosy people.  Three people that Stiles swears will be getting lumps of coal for Christmas.  Particularly Erica.  Clothes-lining a guy is in no way superior to a wave, a hug, or even a greeting cuddle.  They apparently hurt very much, not to mention his nipples are sensitive now for some reason. 

     "Seriously Erica?  I could've broken a rib." 

     "Oh you're fine."  She says rolling her eyes and waving a hand in the air.  "He's fine too.  Apparently.  Allison says the pictures doesn't do him any justice." 

     "She said what?"  Scott asks all concerned and territorial at the same time.

     "Calm down lover boy, it's just sight seeing."  She says before rounding back to Stiles, putting her hands on his shoulders and pushing down, forcing him to sit on an empty chair.  "Okay, start talking.  The five W's.  Go."

     "Colonel Mustard in the library at night with a candlestick, 'cause he was hopped up on bath salts."  Stiles replied. 

     "Dude, seriously.  _Are_ you gay?  'Cause I'd be cool with that.  But, like, are you?"  Scott asks, ignoring Stiles wit.  The heathen. 

    "Not with that outfit he isn't."  Lydia pipes in, staring at his clothes.

    "What's wro-... have you been talking to my dad?"  Stiles asks, narrowing his eyes at Lydia.  "Anyway, I could totally be gay.  And by the way, we're going to be late for class." 

     "Please Stiles, you've been pining for me forever.  You're not gay.  And there's still ten minutes before class starts.  You can't get out of this."  She says.

     "Yeah dude, you can't fake the woody you have every time you get that dopy look on your face when you're fantasizing about her.  The smell's kinda hard to miss, especially when you're staring at her while you're doing it."  Scott says awkwardly running a hand through his hair. 

     "How do you know I wasn't thinking about a guy every time I was looking at Lydia, huh?"  Stiles pressed.  "How do you know that her manliness doesn't reminds me of penises!  She might have manly hips!" 

     "I do not!"  Lydia huffs in frustration before taking Stiles hands and placing them on her breasts. 

     Stiles swears there must be some sort of wormhole in his pants that causes his dick to go from A to OMGBOOBS in two seconds flat. 

     Scott wrinkles his nose, obviously smelling Stiles' erection.  Erica just rolls her eyes again and says, "so you're bi.  Big freaking deal.  Mystery solved.  Can we get on with the important stuff.  Like, how big, what have you done with it, and where?"

     Stiles narrows his eyes at Erica while Scott says.  "Nope.  No way.  TMI Erica.  Stiles, when did this happen?  Why didn't you tell me?  Who is he?  Why have you been keeping it a secret?  Why didn't you tell me?"  He says, repeating the last question with a hurt-puppy-Scott look.

     "Stiles.  You can let go of my breasts now."  Lydia says, pointedly looking at Stiles and then at Stiles' hands that were still cupping her boobs.

     "Uh, right.  Yeah.  They're very nice by the way.  It was a great experience, and I thank you for the opportunity to touch your milkshake.  I'm sure it brings plenty of boys to the yard.  I absolutely would not object should you wish to test my sexuality in the same manner in the future."  Stiles says, getting a look from Lydia that says 'really Stiles?'.  "And yes Scott, I _was_ going to tell you.  In fact, that's what I was trying to tell you yesterday before Allison interrupted us.  You know, the big huge thing?"

     "So he _is_ big?"  Erica asks, eyes lighting up.

     "No, that was Honey Boo Boo."  Scott answers for Stiles.

     "Who?"  Erica asks.

     "What, seriously you too?"  Stiles asks appalled.

     The door opening has the four of them turning to look, and in walks Allison and Isaac into the classroom.

     "You found him, good!"  Allison says with a smile.  "What did we miss?"

     "We're talking about Honey Boo Boo apparently."  Erica replies. 

     "Who?"  Isaac asks.

     "Oh my god, you guys have the attention span of a gnat."  Lydia huffs out before rounding back on Stiles.  "Okay, so you're bi, or whatever - but no one can deny the passion that we saw yesterday, so don't even start.  Stop avoiding the subject and start talking.  The pack has a right to know." 

     "Seriously?  Is my love life pack business now?  You're all suddenly interested who I might be getting freaky with?"  Stiles asks, gesturing wildly with his hands. 

     "Oh, except for Boyd.  He doesn't care."  Isaac says without preamble.  "And I don't think Derek knows.  And I think _he_ would care.  I don't know about Peter." 

     "No one told Derek yet?"  Erica asks.  Stiles doesn't know why Derek would care.  He thought it was a rather odd thing to say.

     "Do we really need to?  I'm not looking forward to that conversation."  Scott says, looking at everyone. 

      Everyone's quiet for a few seconds, looking at each other before they all yelled on top of one another, "Not it!" 

     Isaac was last, well... almost.  Lydia didn't even bother saying anything... was mainly looking at them with a blank expression.  Nobody was about to point that out though, so Isaac might as well have been last.

     "Oh come on.  Seriously?"

     "That's going to be a fun conversation."  Erica smirked. 

     "But what would Isaac tell him exactly?  What did Stiles say?"  Allison asks, turning to look at Stiles.  Who wasn't in his seat anymore. 

     They all looked around them to find Stiles right next to the door, stopped in his tracks and looking at them with an amazed expression. 

     "Yeah, I know.  I can't believe that worked either."  He says before rushing out of the door, ignoring Scott calling his name.       

     Stiles hurries to lose himself in the crowd of students in the hallway.  He knows it wouldn't do any good to the Weres.  They'd be able to find him easily enough through his scent, but being in a crowd of people would dissuade them from grilling him any further.  Fortunately he had English Lit. first thing that morning where he sat next to an apparently uninterested Boyd.  Unfortunately Scott and Allison sat behind them.  But they weren't usually the chatty-to-Stiles type whenever the two of them sat together, too busy getting lost into each other's love-filled-puke-inducing-eyes.  Well, unless Scott or Stiles were pressing them to talk.  But Stiles hoped that Allison would be enough of a distraction for Scott to give up pestering Stiles for the moment.  The class would give Stiles the time to think things through.  He wasn't about to abandon his grandiose plans to prank the group with his very own Super-Awesome-Fun-Time android.  Sure, at first he was thinking of pulling Scott in to help him with the pranks, but not anymore.

     "Muhahahaha.  Hahaa, hahahahaaa!"  Stiles laughs evilly in his head.  The obscene villain type of laughter complete with clawed hands clutching empty air with his head thrown back and eyes shut.  At least, Stiles thought he did that all in his head. 

     Apparently not.  He was standing in the doorway with the class, and the teacher, looking at him, with  several other students standing behind him, and giving him weird looks.

     Stiles coughs in his fist.  "Excuse me."  He says, before stumbling into his seat next to Boyd.

    "Seriously?"  Boyd asks.

     "I... thought I was doing that in my head.  Yep."  Stiles nods awkwardly, slapping the desk rhythmically with his hands.

     "Stop that."  Boyd says. 

     "Sorry."  Stiles replies.          

     He watches as Allison and Scott file into the classroom, Scott giving Stiles a significant look as he reaches them.

     "Um... Boyd?  Can we switch seats?"  Scott asks.

     Before Boyd could respond, Stiles grabs his arm and quickly shakes his head.  Boyd just rolls his eyes, just like the way Erica does it (huh), before turning back to Scott. 

     "Can't.  My bad.  Later."  He responds, with Stiles beaming at his monosyllabic friend.

     Scott looks all hurt and dopey at the same time but moves to take his seat when the teacher starts the class.  Stiles huffs a relieved breathe and goes back to the conversation he was having with himself in his head.  A conversation that entailed aimless mind-babbles that range from _I touched_ _Lydia_ _'s boobs!_ and _It_ is _hefty_ to _Nanananananananana, Batman!_   The more, and smaller, disciplined part of Stiles' mind is actually trying to think things through about what to tell his friends and the things he could do with his android if he continues to keep that little fact a secret, at least for the time being.  Then he starts weighing that with telling the pack the truth immediately and perhaps losing the opportunity for some harmless, mostly, Stiles-type of fun. 

     The sharp jab from a pen on his shoulder jerks him out of his reverie.  Peeking over his shoulder he finds Scott trying to discretely hand him a piece of paper.  Stiles represses a sigh and discretely reaches for it with a hand while trying to make it look like he was still paying attention to Mrs. Frield's lecture on Ophelia and feminism. 

     _Dude¸ so you're into dudes now.  I don't care, I still love you bro.  So like, just tell me, are you alright?  Is he good to you?_   Was what Scott wrote.  Stiles was torn between rolling his eyes and embracing the surge of affection he had towards Scott because of his friend's apparently shameless concern for him.  Stiles smiles and writes down a response before trying to covertly pass the note back to Scott. 

     _Thanks, I love you too bro.  And yes he's good._ Very _good.  Wink wink - smiley face - har har har._   Was Stiles' reply, not resisting the urge to mess with his friend a bit.

     _Uh, okay I guess?  So like, do you love him?_   Scott wrote.

     _Oh yeah, sure.  I'm like totally ready to settle down.  I'm so in love with him that I want to man-bear his children and have plenty of married-monogamous man sex before we slowly drift apart and I'm left cruising the park toilets for some minimal form of intimacy that's apparently lacking in my twenty year marriage.  Seriously, what do you think?_   Stiles thinks he was able to portray sarcasm in print very well as he passes the note back to Scott.

     _Omg, no!  You're too young to get married!_   Was what Scott frantically wrote on the paper.  Stiles stifles a laugh and just grins madly at the sheet.

     _Oh, calm down.  Nothing's really happened.  Other than the impromptu make out session he inflicted onto my person during lacrosse practice.  And I might have had him naked in my room... and he might have worn my shirt... and I might have seen his rather hefty appendage... but it's not what you think, I swear!_   Is what Stiles wrote. 

     _So what is it then?_   Scott asks.

     _It's big._  

     _I'm not talking about his dick Stiles.  Seriously, those are like really intimate things that you're describing.  Just how serious are you guys, and how long has this been going on?_

     _Well, it_ is _long too.  But it seems nice enough._   Stiles responds with a smirk.

     _Seriously?_   Scott writes, with a frowny face drawn beside the word.

     _Oh yeah.  And it's got heft, you know?  Like you know, something that could do really hot, sexy, good-damage if you want it too.  And you know what Scott, I..._ is what he was writing when he notices the a figure standing in front of his desk.  Slowly moving his eyes upward, he's greeted by the frowning face of Mrs. Frield. 

     "Would you like to share that with the class Mr. Stilinski?"  She asks, clearly irritated. 

     "No thanks.  I'm good.  Just... writing about Ophelia.  That gosh darn lady.  Oh why'd you have to drown yourself Ophelia?"   Stiles joke-weeps, trying to get Mrs. Frield to laugh.  "You were so young and apparently crazy hot.  Or just crazy.  Heh.  See, totally paying attention."

      Mrs. Frield's frown deepens, and Stiles could see Boyd shaking his head from the corner of his eyes.

     "Oh, but I insist Mr. Stilinski.  Now stand up and please enthral us with the conversation you find far superior to Hamlet."  She says, motioning for Stiles to stand up. 

     Stiles mutters under his breathe and is internally cursing his luck.  Stiles was torn between trying to tune out the laughter of the class as he read the note or embracing it, but half way through it decided to embrace the situation and started throwing in thee's and thou's to give Scott and his conversation some Shakespearean flare.  At least he could entertain himself while he embarrassed himself.

     "Thither doth a gargantuan member lie!  He says I should touch quickly; marry, I want to.  But it hath killed many a man!"  Stiles says dramatically while the class laughs.  

    "Sit down, Mr. Stilinski, that is enough.  Shut up and pay attention or it's detention."  She says, her fingers rubbing her temples, as she walks away.  But Stiles swears her lips twitched into a smile more than once during the whole thing.

     Sitting down and quite proud of himself, he opens his palms and brings it closer to Boyd under the table.  The guy chuckles and slides his own hand on top of Stiles.  Stiles smiles, jerking his head hither and dither with great pleasure. 

     But Scott and Allison didn't have the time to press Stiles for further information after class ended.  Stiles was far too busy trying to get away from them as quickly as he could while random people in the class were stepping forward to pat his back appreciatively at his impromptu, and inappropriate, Shakespearean monologue. 

     Stiles knows he can't get away from them forever.  At least not for another fifty minutes until the lunch bell rings.  But he has time and another class to think things through.  Or at least he thought he did.  But the next thing he knows is that the bell rings again and students are filing out of Spanish for lunch. 

     Stiles has no idea what he just spent that fifty minutes doing, but it might have something to do with him trying to compose a Spanish language sonnet about his android.  But all he got was _Había una vez_ _un androide que_ _fue a la biblioteca_.  Stiles understands that he really need to brush up on his Spanish. 

     Stiles stepped into the cafeteria with great trepidation and an impending sense of doom.  Procrastinating, he took his time walking through the lunch line grabbing random bits of food that he could find.  He may have spent five minutes trying to unnecessarily chat up the lunch lady about the questionable nutritional content of the meatloaf.  But the frustrated glares, words, and shoves that people were throwing his way forced him to move through the line.  Of course the moment he paid for his meal, Erica was there to wind her arms through his and pull him along the towards the table where the whole pack, sans Derek and Peter, ate at the far end of the cafeteria.  Sighing, he plops himself down next to Scott awaiting the barrage of questions that would be thrown his way. 

     But it didn't happen.  Stiles got through about one and a half pizzas, while keeping a wary eye at each of them, before someone finally pipes up. 

     "Oh calm down Stiles.  No more questions for today, you can relax."  She says while dipping a fry into some ketchup. 

     "Why not?"  Stiles asks suspiciously, spraying some pizza onto Scott's cheek.  Stiles ignores the fact that Scott doesn't so much wipe his cheek as much as pick the pre-chewed-pizza piece and puts it in his mouth.  Apparently everyone else was going to ignore that too. 

     "Because."  Lydia smiles.  A smile that Stiles knows has sunk a thousand ships, luring unwary sailors into sharp jagged rocks of doom.  "We're going on a picnic tomorrow." 

     "Picnic?"  Stiles raises an eyebrow before comprehension dawns on him and his eyes both widen.  "We?"

     "Oh yes, Stiles.  We.  As in the pack, you," she says, turning to look at him in the eye, the most serene smile on her face, "and him."      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blergeblergeblerge?
> 
> Changed story to Explicit and added masturbation tag. Yep I've decided to be really, really, REALLY, dirty with this fic. Tags will be added as the story progresses.


	6. Vlaah!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles has 'conversations' with the pack; has good times with Brad; has awkward conversations with an android; has a surprise encounter with a certain Were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questionable consent warning. It gets discussed.

     Stiles snorted and laughed.  Which isn't a good thing to do if you've just taken a bite of pizza.  A bit of food went up his throat, choking him, and went out of his nose.  But he couldn't stop laughing.  The thought of Lydia Martin, the princess of Beacon Hills High, willingly eating food on used, dirty park benches, let alone on a blanket on the ground, was a hilariously impossible thought to Stiles.  He says as much too.  Stiles heard Jackson snort and choke on his own food, but when he turned to look, the guy's face was as calm and neutral as can be.  Unfortunately Isaac and Erica weren't as good at keeping their faces neutral, smiles threatening to break out of their lips.  Scott on the other hand was openly smirking.

     "Yeah, he has a point."  Scott grinned at Lydia.  "You're not really the picnic type." 

     "I can be whatever type I want to be."  She said through narrowed eyes at everyone, and an especially piercing look at Jackson.  "Got it?"

     Stiles was still smirking like a goof while everyone else avoided looking at her eyes.  Except for Erica who was openly grinning at Lydia now. 

     "Anyway.  it's already been set.  Tomorrow we're having lunch at the park.  We'll play and frolic and bond.  Everyone is going to be there, and I do mean everyone."  She said, stressing the last word while looking pointedly at Stiles. 

     "Umm...I think he's busy that day."  Stiles said, catching on easily enough.

     "No he's not."  Lydia replied confidently. 

     "How would you know?"  Jackson asks through a mouthful of fries. 

     "I just do, Jackson."  She says sharply.

     "He has work."  Stiles replies.

     "Oh, really?"  Lydia asks, with a raised brow.  "Where does he work?"

     Stiles took a long gulp of his soda before responding.  "At the mall."

     "What store?"

     "Guess?"

     "They're not hiring.  They haven't been since last spring."

     "I meant, take a guess?"  Stiles says, working hard at keeping his face neutral.

     "Stiles, you're going to be there and your little Romeo is going to be there too."  She says, pointing a fork at his direction.  "We're all going to meet up at the park at noon, sharp.  Or I'm going to be very, very, unhappy.  Do you want me to be unhappy Stiles?"  She asks through narrowed eyes.

     Stiles shakes his head, pizza left unchewed in his mouth, a little bit of spittle crawling down at the corner of his lips. 

     "I didn't think so."  She says while leaning back, biting into a fry speared at the end of her fork.  "Don't worry about the food and drinks.  I'll take care of the refreshments.  Just show up.  We'd all like to get to know him better." 

     Thankfully Stiles was saved by the ringing of the warning bell.  Lydia stood, smiling, and gave Stiles a happy pat on the cheek before turning to walk away, Jackson trailing after her with her trash in his hand.  He turned to the rest of the pack who were all slowly getting up from the table and glared at them all.

     "Seriously?  A picnic?"  Stiles said evenly. 

     Scott just shrugged.  "You try saying no to Lydia."

     Stiles rolls his eyes and shovels the remaining fries in to his mouth before leaving the cafeteria for his class. 

     Jogging to keep up with him as Stiles leaves the cafeteria in a huff, Scott comes to his side with a wide smile on his face. 

     "Oh come on it's going to be fun."  Scott says, throwing an arm over his friend's shoulders.  "We'll all be there.  It'd be nice to get to know the guy that swept you off your feet, you know?"

     "He did not sweep me off my feet!"  Stiles yells before he realizes it.  Everyone around him stops to stare at him, Erica and Isaac not far in front of them turned around with amused looks on their faces.  "Oh what're you looking at?"  He snaps at all of them.

     He was getting frustrated.  He didn't like people forcing him to do things, even if the people turned out to be Lydia. 

     He heard Scott sigh beside him.  "Is it really that big of a deal for you?  If you really don't want to, you don't have to bring him.  Or you don't even have to show up if you don't want to.  No ones going to force you."

     "Doesn't feel like it."  Stiles mutters as he does the combination to his locker.  Grabbing the books he needs for his next class and shutting his locker, Stiles heaves a sigh. 

     He knew he was being a bit of a bitch.  He knew it was perfectly reasonable for the pack to be curious about the new stranger in his life.  He knew it wasn't exactly the first time that he'd been pulled into this type of non-choice situation by Lydia or the pack, nor was it the first time was he was pissed about it happening.  But somehow, in the back of his mind, he thought that this was a different from all the other times it happened.  It wasn't a life or death decision they were facing as much as it would just be Stiles facing their expectations regarding this apparent new development in his life.  He didn't know if he was prepared for that.  To face his pack when they thought they'd be meeting his boyfriend... or whatever.  Particularly to face him.

     Nope.  Stiles was not thinking about that. 

     Stiles just sighs and turns to look at Scott with remorseful eyes.  "No, sorry.  I'm being a bit of a brat.  I haven't really told you guys about it and it's perfectly natural for you guys to be curious and concerned.  I guess I'm just getting pissed that I've made all these plans in my head and nothing's really coming together."

     Stiles groaned internally, realizing that he had promised Brad that they would be spending the entire day tomorrow together.  Alone.  Now the android would have to face his pack instead. 

     "Dude.  When have our plans ever come together exactly like how we planned them?"  Scott asks, smirking.

     "Your whole Gerard-Mountain Ash thing worked out pretty well."  Stiles offered.

     Scott rolls his eyes.  "Yeah, except for the Jackson part.  If you hadn't come along, I honestly don't know what would have happened.  Jackson might not be here right now.  Or one of us.  Look, I know we're being a bit annoying right now but, like, it's cause we care about you right?  I mean we know nothing about this guy.  And you haven't really told us anything about him.  Well anything worth mentioning.  I _really_ don't want anymore conversations about how hefty he is or whatever."

     _Crap, he's right_.  Is what Stiles thought.  Considering the random series of unfortunate events (yes, that's what he's believed them to be) that befell him the past two days, and how far removed he brought himself from the pack regarding those events, he really shouldn't be surprised at their level of insistence of keeping him in their lives.  The significance of a non-pack member coming to a pack event was not lost on Stiles.  It was as if they were choosing to let a stranger into their lives to ensure that Stiles would remain in theirs.  At least, that's the thought that crossed Stiles mind. 

     "So, what?  Derek seriously agreed to this?"  Stiles asks.  "He's not really the picnic type of guy either." 

     "Umm... I don't think he knows so much as... think... that it'll just be pack... like a bonding thing..."  Scott says awkwardly.  "Isaac kinda wussed out."

     "So he doesn't know that Brad's coming?"  Stiles asks.  Scott shakes his head.  "I don't get it, why not just tell him?  We don't want him wolfing out in front of Brad.  That really wouldn't be good.  But I guess there really wouldn't be any opportunity to wolf out during a picnic.  Or shouldn't." 

     "Umm..."  Scott fidgets, running a hand through his hair and not looking at Stiles.  "We're going to be late for class."  Was what he says instead, walking away from Stiles. 

     Stiles just stares after him, confused and suspicious by his lack of response. 

     Choosing a seat at the back row during class, Stiles whips out his phone and goes through his contacts looking for the Sour Wolf's cell number.

     **Hey, so we r goin on a picnic tmrw.**   Stiles texts.

     It takes ten minutes for Derek to reply.  **Yeah.**

     Stiles bristles at the length of time it took him to answer.  **Ur** **not the type to go on a picnic.**

     Another ten or so minutes pass before Stiles feels his phone vibrate with a reply.  **It's a pack event.**

     Stiles be damned if brevity indeed was the soul of wit.  At this point, Stiles expected Helen Keller to have better phone-texting-conversational-skills.  **Brad's coming.**   Is what Stiles texts.

     Derek's response was immediate.  **Who's Brad.**

     Stiles bristles at the lack of a question mark.  Couldn't the guy use proper punctuation?  **He's the reason** **Lydia** **'s having us do this.**

     A reply came a minute later.  **Why.**

 **Use punctuation.** **Ur** **txting sux.** Stiles types back.

     **Who cares.  You're using leet speak.  Who's Brad.** Derek says in response.  The speed of Derek's reply was astonishing Stiles.  Usually when he texts Derek, he was lucky to get a reply at all.  Even when he does get a reply, they would usually come a bit later than Stiles would have liked. 

     **The guy who kisd me on the field.  Theres pix thats been around with the two of us.** **Lydia** **told me to bring him.**

     Derek didn't reply for long while.  Stiles already moved rooms to his final class of the day before someone sent him a text.

     **Did you just tell Derek about Brad coming to the picnic?!  WTH Stiles?**   Lydia texts.

    Stiles narrow his eyes at the message.   **Yeah, so?  Isn't him knowing kinda important?**

His phone buzzes directly after he sends his response to Lydia's text.  **Bring him.**   It says.

    Stiles bristles at the command.  **Bring him?  Seriously?  Are you Dracula now?  I'm not your Renfield.  'Vring him to me.  Vlaah, Vlaah.  Hiss.'**

     But Derek doesn't respond.  On the other hand the knowledge of his text conversation with Derek seemed to have spread among the pack.

     **OMG U TOLD DEREK!** Isaac texts.  **R U OK?** Stiles thinks the guy needs to lay off on the CAPs usage.

     **Don't worry, we won't let anything happen.**   Is what Boyd texts. 

     **I got your back bro.**   Comes from Scott. 

     **It's going to be ok.  :)** Is what Allison sent.

     **You're an idiot. >:(  **Comes from Lydia.

     **HAHAHAHAHAHAHA** is all that Jackson sent. 

     **omg i luv u.**   Comes from Erica.

     **I really don't think he knows, we should tell him.**   Is another one that comes from Scott, earning a confused look from Stiles.  Checking to make sure the teacher was too busy to notice him, Stiles types out a response. 

     **Knows what?  Tell who, what?**

 **What?**   Scott sends back.

     **... knows what?** Stiles presses.

     **wut? Noting.**   Scott replies before sending another, **Nothing.**

      Bristling, Stiles sends his friend a barrage of texts pestering him on what he was talking about.  But no response came by the time his final class ended.  Letting out a growl and feeling pissed off again, he marches out of class and towards his locker only to find Scott standing there waiting patiently for him, kicked-puppy look and all.

     "I'm sorry."  Were the first words out of Scott's mouth before Stiles was able to say anything.

     "What were you talking about?  Am _I_ the one who doesn't know something?  What do I need to know Scott?"  Stiles says, poking his friend in the chest. 

     "Nothing!"  Scott says with wide eyes.  This was one of the moments when Stiles wishes he had the capacity to detect lies just like Weres.  "Look, um... why don't we do something tonight.  You, me, and Allison?  Let's hang out!" 

     Stiles narrows his eyes as he shoves his books in his locker and pulls his bag out of it.  "Can't."  Is his reply.

     "Why not?  Do you want to do something else?"  Scott presses.

     "Nope."  He replies.

     "So, what are you going to do?"  Scott asks, using his wide-cute-ridiculous-anime-like-eyes to their full potential. 

     "Nothing."  Stiles bites back before marching out of the school and towards his jeep, leaving a pouting Scott behind.  He was now back to being pissed, frustrated at feeling like his friends were keeping something from him.  He didn't like feeling stupid and was perfectly content with getting in his car and driving home in a huff. 

     Brad was waiting for him when he got home, sitting on his bed and watching something on his laptop.  The android's face lightened up the moment he stepped through the door, putting the laptop to the side and stood to greet Stiles.

     "Welcome home."  Brad said with a soft smile, making Stiles' heart melt and the irritation he had felt flushed away. 

     "Hey."  Stiles replied, noting the way Brad held back from stepping too close and touching him.  But the android was obviously certainly itching to do it though, that was clear enough to anyone.  Stiles smiled and said, "alright, yeah, come on then.  I know you want to."  He said, smirking jovially, arms splayed out wide open for a hug. 

     But it seemed that the android had other ideas.  Smiling wildly he stepped forward and took Stiles in his arms, brought him close and crushed their lips together.  The shock of it had Stiles freezing in the android's arms, eyes wide open and arms still splayed out for the hug.  But the sensation of Brad's lips, of the comfort in the grip of his hug, of the gentle heat of his body on Stile's skin was enough for Stiles to give in to the kiss.  Stiles was surrendering to that part in his brain that argued that perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to give up some measure of restraint and just openly welcomed the contentment that being in Brad's arms brought.  Bringing his arms down and around Brad's body, eyes closing tenderly, Stiles leans into the kiss. 

     Brad let out a sigh of contentment as his tongue peeked out to caress Stiles' lips.  Brad gripped him tighter, trying to bring their bodies as close as he could manage.  He was held so tight that Stiles could feel Brad despite the layers of clothes between them; from the bumps of his muscles to the bulge in his pants.  Stiles felt the android drag him backwards, awkwardly walking while still clinging together, and onto the bed.  Brad brought Stiles down onto his back, then with a hand lifts and shuffles him up until Stiles' head rested on a pillow, Brad's body on top of his.  Enjoying the weight of the android on top of him, Stiles moaned into a kiss and his own lips parted.  Taking it as an invitation, Brad's tongue caresses its way inside to meet Stiles' own.  The taste and the feel of the android was intoxicating to Stiles, and the way Brad started to grind his hardness against his own had Stiles moaning into Brad's mouth. 

     Stiles felt a warm hand make its way under his shirt, caressing the hairs on his stomach and make its way up his treasure trail to his chest, another hand coming down onto his thigh and pulling Stiles' leg out from under the android and onto Brad's side.  The same hand went down to Stiles' ass, clutched it, and lifted it for a few seconds as Brad pushed forward, grinding his bulge into the crease of Stiles pants. 

      "Oh shit, fuck.  Stop."  Stiles breathed, the pleasure from the gesture wracking his brain.  "Yeah, totally not what I expected."

     Pulling back from nuzzling Stiles' cheeks, the android looks down at him with dilated eyes and flushed cheeks.  "I'm sorry, did you want to be on top?"  Brad asked. 

     The statement completely bringing Stiles back to his senses, the teen sighed and began pushing Brad's chest away with one of his hands.  "No, no.  Can you move please?"

     Disappointment and hurt crossed Brad's features, but the android complied and shuffled his weight to Stiles' side.  Stiles lay back on his pillow looking up the ceiling and heaved out a sigh, trying to get his heart to stop trying to beat out of his chest. 

     "I'm sorry.  Was that too forceful?  Did I do something that made you uncomfortable?"  The android said in a low voice.

     It takes Stiles a minute to be calm enough to gather his thoughts for a coherent response.  "No, no.  It wasn't.  Not what I was aiming for, which by the way was a hug, but that was nice too.  I think that was a product of personal and sexual frustration finally bubbling over.  It was good, yeah.  But definitely not something we should be doing.  Not that it was bad and that's why I stopped.  'Cause that was great.  That was really, really good Brad.  And yeah, the grinding thing?  Yeah, um, good.  But a bit too soon, right?  Not to mention it's not really the right context for it."

     Bringing a hand up to caress Stiles thigh and up his body to the side of his neck, Brad begins to massage the exposed skin there with a thumb while leaning in close to speak breathily into Stiles ear.  "That's good that it felt good Stiles.  That was my intention.  I am designed to fulfill many functions, including sexual intercourse.  I am equipped with the designs you specified and I am knowledgeable and proficient in a wide variety of sexual techniques.  Let me pleasure you Stiles, I can take the tension away." 

     Leaning into nuzzle Stiles' neck, a warm, wet, tongue licking at the tender skin reddened by the nipping of teeth, Stiles body freezes at the android's statement.  Ignoring the bulge that was twitching in his pants, Stiles pulls away and sits up to face the disappointed android splayed out on its side beside him. 

     "Brad, if I request it, would you have sex with me right now?"  Stiles asked. 

     "Yes Stiles."  The android responded simply, sitting up to meet Stiles eyes.

     "Okay.  And if I wanted to do specific things to you, like sexually.  You'd let me do them?"

     "Yes Stiles."  The android said, smiling at him. 

     "What if those things could hurt you?  Like really hurt you, physically I mean.  Like, maliciously.  Would you still do them then?"  Stiles asked, his heart starting to once again pound out of his chest. 

     "Of course Stiles, whatever you want."  The android said, still smiling.  "It is my pleasure to pleasure you." 

     Stiles jumps up and out of the bed with that statement, his hands shooting up to grip his hair.  "Oh shit, that's really fucked up.  Oh, wow." 

     Standing up too, the android stares at Stiles with worried eyes.  "Stiles, what's wrong?  Did I do something wrong?" 

      "No," Stiles quickly said before wincing, "I mean yes!  Wow.  Umm... hold on a sec, my head's spinning a bit and there's a lot going on in it right now.  I just, I just need a few seconds to get my thoughts in order alright.  Hold on."  Stiles huffs out.

     Bending over to grip his knees, Stiles takes deep steadying breaths as he tries to calm himself down.  Brad's statement brought up to the surface the disturbing suspicions that had crossed Stiles' mind the moment of their first meeting, of their first kiss.  Although Brad looked innocent, and at times spoke just as innocent, his intentions clearly were the opposite.  Brad's priorities were disturbingly skewed to favour Stiles' sexual satisfaction, a revelation that Stiles found disturbing.  A fresh wave of guilt overcame him, at his seeming willingness to let himself take advantage of the android.  Of an android that, Stiles suspected, probably thought was its function while in Stiles' company.  This wasn't remotely romantic to Stiles at all, in fact it made him feel like a pervert.  As if he had some sort of really complex flesh light or vibrator in his room.  The thought made Stiles rub his hands on his face, trying to relieve the tension that was building in his head at the realization that he might have been the one who was taking advantage of somebody who apparently might not know any better.

     "Um, okay.  Can you sit down on the bed?  That's fine.  We need to have a little chat."  Stiles said.  "What you said just now?  About how you'd let me hurt you if it would... pleasure me... that was really disturbing Brad."

     "I do not understand."  Brad declares, tilting his head at Stiles with a blank expression.  "You listed on the survey your desire for a partner that would allow you to explore your sexual limits consensually and safely.  That is what I am offering."

     "But Brad, you don't think it's a bit fucked up?  It makes it seem like that's what you were built for or something." 

     "It is."  The android responded simply.

     "So what, like I can do whatever I want with you and you'd just consent to do it.  No matter how fucked up and how unpleasant it could be for you, you'd be fine with it?"  Stiles said, working hard to try and make his point.

     "I would."  Brad said calmly.  "It is what I was designed for."

     "Brad, I don't want to hurt you."  Stiles said. 

     "I am capable of controlling the pain receptors in my body.  I can take great pleasure in whatever act you wish to inflict upon me.  If it is to your preference, I can exhibit great pain as well if that should be to your liking."  The android declared.

      "Jesus Christ!  I'm not a sadist Brad!"  Stiles yelled.  "I mean I haven't even... like it would have been my... fuck!" 

      Frustrated and confused, Stiles begins to pace the room, flushed hot with embarrassment and shame. 

     "I don't understand what I'm doing wrong."  He heard Brad say quietly, while looking down at the mattress. 

     Stiles stopped his pacing and slowly walked towards the android and sat in front of him.  Cupping Brad's chin, Stiles brings up the android's face until they were looking into each other's eyes.  "Okay, I'm going to try and explain this as eloquently as I can.  Umm... I'm not really one to talk because I'm not that experienced myself.  I've only ever had four kisses in my life.  I was like five for my first, and I hardly remember it.  The second was with Scott when I was eight because we were really curious.  Then Lydia was my third shortly after that, but I don't think she even remembers it herself.  And now you're the fourth.  So it's not like I have this grand sex wisdom or whatever when it comes to this particular topic... so I can only go with my own opinion on the matter, okay?"

     Stiles waited for the android to nod before moving on.  "So, what we did?  What we were doing?  That was nice?  But your intentions, or what I believe are your intentions, behind it?  Not so nice."

     "I don't understand."  Brad said.

     "I'm getting to that."  Stiles responded.  "Look, I'm a horny, really horny, teenaged guy.  So like my priorities when it comes to sex can get skewed a bit.  I mean I've had fantasies about what my first time would be like, with certain people, and they've ranged from really simple, straightforward, and marginally romantic fantasies, all the way to what's really fucked up territory.  But in all of them, in every single one, in my head, there was this... umm... informed consent.  Yeah, that's how I should put it.  It's like I know for sure that that's what we'd both want and are comfortable with.  And like, we'd both fully understand what we'd be doing in the sense that... we'd both want to do it, and we'd like it, and the other party knows that even if it's something that we haven't really done before and might not be expert with, we'd still do it willingly to each other, together.  You know?"

     "I would be comfortable with whatever you want Stiles."  Brad said.

     "See, I don't think you really mean that.  At least not in the way that I think you should be."  Stiles huffs out a frustrated breath at his own inability to articulate himself in a way that the android would understand. "See I'm starting to understand that you'd be willing to do whatever I want as long as I would find it pleasurable.  It's like you're... programmed, to conform to any and all of my wishes."

     "No, I'm not."  Brad declares.

     "Sorry?"  Stiles says, startled.  "You're not?"

     "Correct."  Brad nods.  "I am incapable of hurting you terminally, even if it's something that you desire."

     "Wow, that's... really screwed up."  Stiles says with wide eyes.  "So like, you'd be fine if suddenly we... like, decide to explore really rough bondage scenarios, which I admittedly might have fantasized about at one point or another.  But you wouldn't be fine if my kink were suddenly like... having you remove my liver and letting me bleed out to death to get me off, or something?  Like Hostel level of pain Olympics or something?"

     "Or something."  Brad nods.  "That's correct Stiles.  Your safety is of utmost priority for me, above even that of your pleasure.  I am capable of exercising a great number of bondage scenarios, including blood letting.  But I am incapable of inflicting anything that could harm you terminally." 

     "Wow, okay.  I think we're going into a bit of a tangent here."  Stiles said, shaking his head.  "Or not really.  This conversation is getting to be a bit much."

     Stiles breathed out, closing his eyes.  "What I'm trying to say is... that you're not a machine Brad.  Or at least... I can't have you be a machine.  It's kinda hypocritical I suppose since I keep referring to you as an android in my head... and I think I keep on referring to you as an 'it' more often than as a 'him' or anything...  I'm sorry for that."

     "I am an android Stiles.  My priorities are different from that of an average human.  I was designed for you and for you alone.  Every thought that crosses my mind is assured with the idea that I am yours.  Although my confidence wavers at the idea that you would not return the sentiment, it does not change the fact that I am confident in my feelings towards you.  It is ingrained in my programming."  Brad declares. 

     "See, that's it.  Programming.  I mean I've basically had you two days and you've already kinda convinced me that you're more than just a machine... even if I don't completely think it at the same time.  It... it gets really complicated Brad.  It's like the logical part of my brain has processed the fact that I can literally, and physically turn you on and off like a machine.  But at the same time I've processed my experiences with you, your reactions and our interactions.  I can see that you think and feel and those types of experiences that I have of you really throws me for a loop, because I start thinking that you're something more.  But then you say things like 'programming' and it all goes back to you being a machine... biologically realistic or not."  Stiles said, his voice giving out in the end. 

     Brad nods, a look of understanding dawning on his face.  "I believe I am starting to understand your point Stiles.  You are concerned that my declaration coupled with the fact that I am an android means that I have no free will.  That whatever desire I exhibit, and whatever action I perform, is the result of an artificial set of calculations programmed solely towards your satisfaction?"

     "Yes."  Stiles says simply.

     "How do you know you have free will?"  Brad asks.

     "What?"  Stiles asks, confused at the question.  "What do you mean?"

     "How are you so confident that every action that you've done has been enacted solely because you wished it?  That every thought that has crossed your mind is yours alone because you thought it?  How are you so certain that you have as much free will as you think you do?"

     "Umm... wow, we're really getting into a philosophical debate here?  Look, dude, I'm just in high school.  I'm a teenager with ADHD and my brain tends to be all over the place.  It was already pretty tough trying to get my head in order to have this conversation without going on a tangent.  I'm not sure I'm capable of arguing abstract ideas like free will at any length of time."  Stiles confesses embarrassedly.

     Brad shakes his head with a kind smile on his face.  "You underestimate yourself Stiles.  Having ADHD does not make you dumb.  I've seen and read the school work you've left behind in this room.  You are far more intelligent and wise than I suspect you give yourself credit for." 

     "Uh... thanks?" 

     "The fact that we are having this conversation, that you are showing such great thought regarding my well being and my capacity to understand things such as consent is evidence that you are a great thinker Stiles."  Brad says with a smile.  "A kind and selfless one at that."

     "Yeah... I don't know why we're having this conversation now.  That's kinda... I'm not... selfless.  Really, far from it."  Stiles chuckles.  "You have no idea."

     "You willingly stopped an experience that would have given you great pleasure because you were concerned about the nature of your partner's consent."  Brad smiles kindly, cupping Stiles' cheek.  "Despite the fact that I have not existed for very long, I still have enough knowledge from the archive to understand in full that such a deed is considered selfless.  There would have been many individuals who would have proceeded with the pleasure to only deal with the issue of consent afterwards, if at all.  I am very fortunate to have you as my first." 

     "I think you're building me up more than I deserve."  Stiles mutters under his breath. 

     "No.  I'm not."  Brad declares fiercely, making Stiles blush harder than he ever has before.  "I understand that you believe my desire towards you means less because I am partly a machine.  That I voiced it so shamelessly and unlike how a human would declare their sexual preferences that it means less than it would have coming from a human."

     "Yeah dude, look, it's like you were programmed to love."  Stiles says.

     "Aren't we all?"  Brad responds.          

     Stiles didn't know what to say.  He still felt like he had a point, but it had gotten away from him because of the turn of the conversation.  He wasn't even entirely sure if the conversation did in fact turn, or if he wasn't smart enough to understand the conversation they've had at all, despite what Brad thought. 

     "I feel like I had a point and I lost it."  Stiles confesses.  "I don't want to take advantage of you Brad.  I don't want my first time to be with someone who only wants to be with me because they were made to."    

     "Stiles, you're not taking advantage of me.  I am fully capable of knowing and understanding the complexities of consent.  I may be programmed to love you, but I am perfectly capable of qualifying that love.  I understand where it comes from.  I understand the degree of its intensity.  I understand its authenticity.  Just because it is conceptualized by you as something programmed in me does not make it any less real.  It does not lessen the intensity of it.  It does not lessen the quality of it.  I want you to be assured of the reality of it.  I do love you Stiles, whether you believe it to be real or not.  I _was_ made for you.  But why would that make the experience any less real or significant?"  Brad says while stroking his neck and ends it by giving Stiles a peck on the cheek.

     "Wow."  Stiles mumbles.  "This is some Twilight shit right here." 

     Thankfully he was pulled out of the awkward situation of impromptu declarations of love with his father calling his name down for dinner.  Looking at the clock he hadn't realized that they'd been talking for hours.  Or perhaps that they had been making out for longer than he might have thought. 

     "Um, okay.  Stay.  I'll get through dinner and bring you up some food.  Okay?"  Stiles waits for Brad's nod of understanding.  "Oh, and I've got to tell you, we're going to a picnic with a whole bunch of my friends tomorrow at the park.  I know I said that we'd be spending the whole day together tomorrow, so I'm sorry for the change in plans." 

     Brad just smiles, "It's okay Stiles.  It would be my pleasure to meet your friends.  Although I am saddened that we would not be spending as much quality time alone as I would have liked, I am really happy to be able to spend time with people that mean much to you."

     Stiles blushes at that.  "Okay, look how about this?  Why don't we go out tonight?  We can go catch a movie or something?  Maybe have a late night snack afterwards?  How does that sound?"

     Brad's smile grew wider, his eyes crinkling with joy.  "It's a date."

     Nodding to his android, Stiles heads out of the door in time to find his dad coming up the stairs to call him.  Leading the Sheriff back down, the two have a pleasant dinner eating the take out his father had brought and Mr. Chang's casserole.  They eat slowly for almost two hours, just spending the time talking and chatting about life, all the while Stiles was thankful that they had an early dinner at six.  His father asks him if he wanted to watch T.V., but Stiles just shook his head and declared that he was meeting up with Scott for the evening.  His father just nodded, kissed him on the head and said something about catching up on some baseball games he had TiVo'd before heading to bed. 

     "Why don't you go out?  You know, play the field?  Go to a country western bar and ride some bulls?"  Stiles says.

     His father chuckles and just rubs Stiles' head and says, "yeah, I don't think so buddy.  I'm good here, you go have fun with Scott," before plopping himself down on the couch to watch his game. 

     Making his way upstairs, and covertly stopping by the kitchen to bring some food, Stiles makes his way back to his room.  Brad was already happily spooning the food into his mouth as Stiles spoke.  "Okay, so I'm going to do a quick wash before we head out okay?"

     Taking a quick shower and then brush his teeth, Stiles wiped the steam from his mirror to stare at his reflection for a bit.  "You have no idea what you're doing, do you?" 

     Drying himself and changing into the clothes he brought with him, he makes his way out of the room to greet Brad.

     "I left a towel in there if you want to wash up.  I also took out a spare toothbrush.  I forgot about that last time.  I'll look up movies we can watch while you finish."  He says.

     "Thank you Stiles.  I'll take a quick shower as well, but I do not need to brush my teeth.  My mouth is self cleaning."  He declares before walking into the bathroom. 

     "Oh, okay then."  Stiles responds in surprise.  "Hey, wait up.  Here, take some clothes with you.  You can change inside.  This should fit."  Stiles says while handing him some pants and one of his green plaid shirts. 

     Brad smirks.  "So I am going commando then?"

     Stiles laughs.  "Yeah... I thought it'd be a bit weird if you started wearing my boxers.  I really should go and buy you some stuff.  I mean, I don't have a lot of money.  But I can get you some clothes to call your own..."

     Brad smiles warmly at Stiles as the teen blushes at the declaration of his financial situation.  "Thank you Stiles.  That is very kind of you.  And we do not have to go out tonight.  We can just stay in and watch a movie in your laptop." 

    Stiles shakes his head.  "No, no.  I can afford a movie and a late night snack.  That's fine.  We need to get you out anyway.  You can't spend most of your time in this room.  Go take a shower and we'll get going." 

     It takes fifteen minutes for Brad to shower and change, and by the time he was done Stiles had already picked out the movie they were going to watch. 

    "It'll start in half an hour, so that's more than enough time to get to the theatre."  Stiles frowns, a sudden thought crossing him.  "Except, my dad's in the living room.  And all exits pass by that area... so crap.  He'd see you.  Damn.  Umm..."

     "I can jump out of the window."  Brad declares calmly, like he was reporting on the weather.

     "What?"  Stiles says, surprised.  "Seriously?"

     "I can land the fourteen foot fall without sustaining any damage to my body.  I was built to be very durable Stiles."  Brad says simply. 

     "Um... okay then?  I'll... pull the car around to meet you at the side of the house."  Stiles said, making his way to the door as Brad made his way to the window.  Turning off the light, Stiles makes his way downstairs and past his father, giving a quick goodbye at the man so enthralled on the game that Stiles wonders if he would have noticed if Brad did pass by this way, before making his way out of the door. 

     Picking up Brad, who was indeed unscathed from his inhuman jump, the two drove off in relative silence to the movies. 

    "Oh, I'm curious."  Stiles asks, not taking his eyes off the road.  "I'm surprised that you're really quiet while you're in the car.  And the first time?  When you carried me to the car?  I half expected you to offer to drive me home."

     Brad turns to him with a smile.  "I do not have a valid California Driver's license Stiles.  It would not be legal for me to drive you anywhere.  Also, I do not want to endanger your life by distracting you while driving." 

     "Oh.  Okay.  Thanks."  Stiles said with a smile.  "Not used to having someone not threaten me in my car."  He laughs.

     "Excuse me?"  Brad asks with a tilt of his head.

     "Nothing."  Stiles says with a shake of his head. 

     They have fifteen minutes to spare when they reach the theatre.  Excited about their night out, Brad beams as he exits the car.  Stiles can't help but be amused as the android practically vibrates with excitement while looking at the theatre lights. 

     "Oh man, I think I'm rubbing off on you."  Stiles laughs, noting Brad's restless body.  Brad just laughs in turn, stepping close to put his arms around Stiles' shoulders.  Stiles lets him and just grins madly as they make their way into the theatre. 

     After buying their tickets, Stiles noting the looks Brad was getting from the patrons and the manner in which he casually had an arm around Stiles' shoulder, the two make their way inside.  Stiles couldn't ignore the gawking look the girl behind the ticket booth had while Brad beamed at her and had leaned over to give Stiles a peck on the cheek.  Stiles rolls his eyes at the playful affection he was getting from the android.  But Stiles didn't feel like complaining, or caring about the looks.  He has had his fill of serious conversations for the night. 

     The two made their way to the concession booth for some movie snacks, the guy behind the counter shamelessly checking Brad out as the two stepped in front of him. 

     "What can I get you?"  He asks breathlessly, eyes solely trained on Brad who was far too busy looking at all the pictures of food on the billboard with his mouth hanging open. 

     "Can you fill a large popcorn bag half way then, here, pour these peanut M&Ms in the middle, pour some butter on it, then fill up the popcorn to the brim and then add more butter?"  Stiles says, handing the guy some of the candy he picked out off the counter.

     "Ew."  The guy says, looking at Stiles like he was from Mars, before turning away to fill his order. 

     "And two large sodas!"  Stiles calls out.  Turning to Brad he watches in amusement as the android checks out the large Enterprise-E model hanging from the theatre ceiling, mouth still hanging open comically. 

     A voice brings the two out of their reverie.  A voice that brings vibrations of unease down Stiles' spine.  A voice that Stiles dreads.  A voice that Stiles wishes wasn't there out of all the possible voices that could be there in its stead.  A voice that belonged to one Peter Hale. 

     Standing not far from them and dressed in a thin v-neck shirt, the man stares at them curiously.  "Stiles?  Fancy meeting you here.  Who is this young man?" 

     _Crap_.  Is what Stiles thought.

     "Crap."  Is what Stiles says.    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't update in the weekend.
> 
> Also might be updating my other story instead of this one on Monday. Regular (as much as possible) posting schedule on Tuesday. Sorry if the end is considered a "cliff hanger". Not really sure. Lol.


	7. Shhh!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles, Brad, and Peter at the movies. Brad eats popcorn. Stiles stresses. Peter ruts.

     "Of course in walks Davros."  Stiles mutters under his breath. 

     "Really?  I'm flattered."  Peter says, beaming. 

     "Of course _you_ would be.  I compare you to a genocidal madman and you're flattered.  So, what do you want Michael Myers?"  Stiles asks tiredly.    

     "No, Stiles.  Peter."  The man says with a smirk.  "Peter."  He mouths as he points to himself.    

     "So Dick then?  Cock?"  Stiles snarked.  "Weiner?"

     "Almighty Johnson?"  Peter offers.

     "No, don't ruin it for me.  I like that show.  I don't want to start connecting that show to you."  Stiles whined.

     Peter smirks at Stiles.  "Let's try this again, shall we?  I'm Peter.  You're Stiles, while this young man is?"

     "My name is Brad."  Brad says with a smile, amused at the exchange he'd witnessed, and offering his hand to Peter.

     Returning a wide smile of his own, or a suspiciously happy smile according to Stiles, he takes Brad's hands in his right for a shake. 

     "A pleasure to meet you."  He says, with a smile.  But in a flash, Peter's smile fades.

     Still clutching on to the other's hand, Brad and Peter stand in an awkward sort of silence in the middle of the semi-crowded movie theatre, staring intently at each other; Brad with a beaming face, and Peter with an impassive one. 

     "Why are you here Peter?"  Stiles huffs out at the man.

     But Peter ignored Stiles' question, still clutching Brad's hand and staring at him intently.  It takes a few seconds before the two pull their hands apart, Stiles confused at the exchange, and Peter turns towards Stiles to speak, his eyes all the while peeking looks at Brad to the side.  For just a moment, so fast that Stiles might have just imagined it, it almost seemed like Peter had rubbed his red, right hand in apparent discomfort.

     "Well gathering that we are in a movie theatre and I am in line at the ticket booth in said movie theatre, it follows that I am, in fact, here to _see_ a movie in said movie theatre."  Peter says.

     "Of course you watch movies by yourself.  Just like the creeper that you are.  Frankly it's not difficult to imagine you wearing a trench coat with your creeper moustache while sitting at the back of the theatre masturbating to a talking car on the screen."  Stiles breathes out in rush.  He offers most of the drinks and popcorn he held to Brad to free one of his hands. 

     Peter tilts his head and smirks, folding his arms and discreetly stroking his chest with his thumb.  "Do you often imagine me masturbating, Stiles? Oh, and I'm more of an animated fish movie man myself."

     "Wa... ew.  No.  Bad touch!"  Stiles exclaims, tearing his eyes away from Peter's really-not-so-discreet chest-stroking movements, while wiping a butter smeared finger on his pants.

     Peter, still smirking, turns to Brad, who was still smiling innocently.  "Forgive me, I know it's rude to discuss such subjects in front of another man's date." 

     "It's not a date."  Stiles interjects.

     But Brad responds as if he hadn't heard Stiles speak.  "Oh it's quite alright.  It is a pleasure to meet you as well.  You are the first of Stiles' friends (NOT A FRIEND! Stiles says) that I have officially met.  I have met two others, but they did not supply their names.  I do not find your discussion rude at all.  Stiles himself has multiple, and very explicit, fantasies regarding the topic of masturbation.  Several of which involves multiple partners in a public venue such as a movie th..."

     "OHMYGOD!"  Stiles cries out after a few seconds of having been frozen, so appalled was he at the turn of the android's statement.  Raising his free hand, he cups the android's mouth to silence him.  Turning to Peter, who was now studying Brad with a curious, if not amused, expression, Stiles bids his farewell.  "Right, that's enough.  We're off.  Have fun being alone."

     _What the hell is Brad talking about?  How the hell did Brad know that?_   Stiles whined in his head, now wondering just how detailed his answers were on Brad's online form.

     Peter stares after them with a curious expression on his face as they walked away.  The moment the pair stepped out of sight, the man's face shifted into one of ire, eyes squinting into a narrowed glare. 

     Stiles removes his hand from the android's mouth as he moved along.  Passing by a thin crowd of people, the two stop in front of the doors to their theatre hall.  Stiles turns to level a look of frustration at Brad, who was still smiling. 

     "What the hell was that about?  Brad, you don't start spouting off other people's sexual fantasies as if they were a normal topic of conversation."  Stiles says, frustrated.

     Brad's eyes narrow in confusion.  "I do not understand.  Were you not guilty of the same thing when you described Peter masturbating in a movie theatre in great detail?"

     "Shhh!"  Stiles shushed, looking at a couple who gave them odd looks as the two passed by towards the theatre door, clearly having heard Brad's statement.  Waiting until the door closes, and there were no other people in sight, Stiles turns back to Brad.  "Right, that wasn't the same thing.  That was me accusing Peter of being a pervert.  _You_ were laying out that I, in fact, _am_ a pervert." 

     "I still do not understand.  But I am sorry for causing you distress Stiles."  Brad says sadly, raising a hand to caress Stiles' arms.

     Heaving a sigh, Stiles looks into Brad's eyes.  "It's alright.  We can talk about it more later.  Just... just, from now on?  Avoid discussing my sexual fantasies in public company?  Unless I explicitly say it's okay, or something?  Although it's difficult to imagine a context where it would be." 

     Brad nods and Stiles gives the android a peck on the cheek before pulling him into the dark theatre.   

     Making their way through the dimly lit theatre, they walk to the rearmost row of seats.  Stiles will never admit that the reason for it was because those seats were considered, supposedly, as prime "make out" seats.  No siree.  Stiles was here to see a movie and he wholeheartedly believes that the highest seats in the theatre were the best place to watch a film.  Not to mention he felt more comfortable knowing that there was no one behind him while sitting in a dark room.  Heaving out a sigh, Stiles leans back into his seat after depositing the drinks on the arm holders and the popcorn on his lap to watch the pre-show.  Peeking at the corner of his eye he finds Brad looking up at the screen with his mouth hanging open, as if the android was enthralled by the images in the screen. 

     _Garsh, he really ish cute_.  The Goofy-voice in his head said. 

     A body moving to sit beside him startles Stiles out of his reverie.  Looking up at the man in the near-dark, he barely distinguishes the familiar face of one Peter Hale. 

     "What?  Seriously?  What're you doing here creeper Peter?"  He groans. 

     "Well, I seem to be bumping to you everywhere.  Hello Brad."  Peter greets as he takes a seat beside Stiles.  

     "Hello Peter."  The android smiles before turning his attention back to the screen that was holding a 'who-is-this-actor?' quiz. 

     "Of course you'd be watching a zombie movie.  Go away."  Stiles says in a harsh whisper, conscious of the other patrons in the theatre.

     "No thank you."  He says with a toothy smile that Stiles could clearly make out in the dim light.  "These are my favourite seats.  They are at the highest point of the theatre so you'd be able to see the entire screen.  Not to mention I'm more comfortable having a wall behind me instead of always being paranoid of other people." 

     Stiles was mighty uncomfortable with the fact that Peter and him apparently were of the same opinion about prime-movie-theatre-spots.  Well, almost. 

     "Plus, it's the perfect place to fuck around without anyone else watching."  Peter whispers quietly into Stiles' ear, leaning into his space. 

     Crap.  Apparently they _did_ share the same thoughts about movie theatre seats. 

     "Are we going to fuck around during the movie Stiles?"  Brad asks loudly, earning the curious looks of nearby patrons a couple of rows over. 

     "He's joking, haha!"  Stiles waves to the couple who turned around uncomfortably in their seats to stare back at the screen.  Stiles turns to Brad and whispers, "indoor whispering voices only Brad.  Here, have some popcorn."

     Handing the bag to Brad, the android looks down at the food before grabbing a kernel and popping it into his mouth.  The android's eyes widened with surprise and proceeded to shovel one fist full of popcorn after another into his mouth. 

     Turning back to chastise Peter for his crassness, he was dumbfounded to find the man staring intently at Brad.  Stiles did not like the critical look that Peter wore on his face. 

     "Stop that."  Stiles says, snapping Peter's attention back to him. 

     Looking at Stiles curiously, after shooting brief glances at Brad's direction, the man plasters a wide smile on his face.  "Stiles, would you kindly help me get some popcorn and a drink?" 

     "No."  Stiles says simply, turning back to look at the screen.

     "Oh, but I insist."  Peter says while standing up, grabbing Stiles' arm and trying to pull him up and out of his seat .

     But Stiles was having none of it.  Bracing his feet in the crease of the row of chairs in front of him, he yanks his hand back down as hard as he could muster from Peter's grasp.  What he didn't expect was for Peter to lose his balance and topple back on top of Stiles' lap.

     "Damn it Stiles."  Peter muttered, squirming in Stiles' lap.  "Great, now my foot's stuck in the crease."

     "Oh crap, stop squirming!  Stop squirming!"  Stiles hissed while the handful of other patrons in the theatre turns to shoot brief looks of disapproval at the commotion. 

     "Stop it."  Stiles hissed at Peter's back as the man squirms in his effort of pulling his leg free. 

     "These are three hundred dollar loafers Stiles.  I am not about to..."  Peter says in a harsh whisper but stops, a look of alarm shooting through his face before being replaced with a shit-eating grin. 

     Stiles blushed in the dark, fiercely aware that there was no possible way that the man on top of him could not feel his little (re: slightly-larger-than-the-typical-'slightlylargerthan'-average) problem.  Peter's weight and his squirming had awakened Olgar the conqueror.  Peeking at the corner of his eyes he finds Brad still busy shoving large quantities of popcorn into his mouth.  Peter leans back, putting more weight onto Stiles' lap, moving his rear to rub at Stiles' growing erection.        

     Leaning his face into Peter's back, Stiles manages a soft "stop" as the man discreetly ruts down onto Stiles' hard on.  Stiles pushes at the man's back, but Peter instead puts more of his weight onto Stiles' lap, his ass pressing harder on Stiles' cock. 

     "Foot.  Still stuck."  Peter manages in a breathy reply as he bears down with his weight on Stiles' hard member, rutting his ass back more obscenely.  He reaches down for Stiles hands and pulls it over to his lap, pressing the palm of Stiles' left hand on his erection.  Despite his better judgement, Stiles squeezes Peter's cock through his pants.    

     Stiles leans forward, his face and body pressing harder on to Peter's back, breath huffing out onto the man's neck, snaking his right hand down Peter's hips, past his thigh, and grips his leg.  Resisting the urge to buck up his hips into Peter's rear, Stiles grips Peter's legs, hard, and pulls.  Peter's foot becomes unstuck and the force of it drives him back against Stiles', his ass pushing down harder on to Stiles' member.  At either from the weight of the man on top of him, or at the sensation of pressure on his throbbing member, Stiles huffs out a groan onto the Were's back.  Stiles gives Peter's cock one last curious squeeze before pulling his left hand back.      

     Stiles huffs out another breath before moving both of his hands to grip Peter's back and push.  The man complies easily enough and quietly shifts his weight back onto the seat next to Stiles.  His curiosity getting the best of him, Stiles turns his head to find Peter staring at him with glowing blue eyes.  Panic overcomes Stiles briefly, and he calmly points to his own eyes with two fingers, knowing that the Were would be able to easily see the gesture and understand the problem.  Peter huffs out a breath and the piercing blue light in front of Stiles fades into the darkness. 

     "All done Stiles."  A cheerful voice behind him proclaims. 

     Turning around to look, Stiles finds a beaming Brad holding up an empty popcorn bag in front of his face.  Stiles lets out a stressed breath, wondering if the android truly did miss the commotion occurring beside him by being so engrossed with the popcorn.  He knew the android had superior senses than that of a human, but to what extent he didn't know.  But Brad made no indication that he had been aware of the situation between Stiles and Peter moments before.  Whether that was a product of genuine or feigning ignorance, Stiles did not know.  He wasn't even sure he wanted to know due to the possible implications of the latter. 

     Taking the bag from the android, Stiles gives him a smile in the darkness.  Looking into the bag Stiles finds it empty of everything, including unpopped kernels.  He'd never known anyone eat those before.  "Good job Brad.  Do you want some more?"

     Smiling wildly at him, the android nods.  "Yes, please.  It was very delicious."

     Thankful of the near-dark, Stiles stands up while placing the empty popcorn bag strategically between his legs.  Both Brad and Peter stands up when he does as if the two were expecting to come with him.  The two glanced at each other briefly, Brad with curiosity and Peter with a look of irritation. 

     Stiles huffs out a frustrated breath.  "Nope.  Going on my own.  You two sit down.  Stay."  He says to both of them.

     Manoeuvring around Peter was a bit of a mental exercise, with Stiles mind rapidly running scenarios of whether or not ass or crotch facing front would be the best way to move across the Were.  Deciding on neither, Stiles awkward shuffles his way forward and across Peter with the side of his hips facing the Were.  This caused their limbs to briefly tangle and bump into each other's, but Stiles was able to manage his balance and make it out onto the aisle in one piece, resisting the urge to turn back for a look at either guys.  Stiles took a minute to lean against a wall and take steadying breaths the moment he exited the room, ignoring the wet, sticky, sensation of pre-cum on his thigh. 

     "Screw that asshole."  Stiles mutters under his breath. 

     Or not.

     Wrong choice of words. 

     Stiles takes a few more deep breaths before walking to the concession stand to refill his popcorn-M&M-butter bag.  Thankfully the whole process took five minutes and gave Stiles much needed alone time to clear his head and calm down before heading back to the theatre.  There he finds the two guys staring at each other in the near-dark; Brad with, a barely visible, look of curiosity, and Peter with a tense, critical look.  Stiles parks himself on the seat in between the two and keeps the popcorn on his lap, relief washing over him as the theatre lights darkened even further and the movie previews started. 

     Thankfully the movie was loud and fast paced, providing very few moments for Stiles' mind to linger on that particular moment with Peter.  He let himself get lost in the story of Mr. Jolie-Pitt running around the world and saving humanity from zombies.  Giving occasional looks at Brad, Stiles finds the android staring wide eyed at the screen, once again his jaw slack and mouth hanging open adorably just like whenever the android was mesmerized by something.  Risking a glance at Peter, Stiles finds the Were looking at him instead of the screen, his intense eyes boring into Stiles' own.  Stiles feels a soft brush run along the arm he had placed on the arm rest, Peter's eyes never dropping contact from his own.  Stiles feels the sensation travel down his arm, along his skin, and into his groin.  The feel of Peter's caress reminded Stiles of the feel of his weight on his lap.  Blood pumped fast through Stiles' heart and body, engorging his cock.  In the flickering, changing, light of the movie, Stiles sees Peter's nostril flare and his lips parting slightly.  Shifting in his seat, Stiles pulls his arm back from the arm rest and places them at his side.  He turns away from the man and works hard to study the screen, embracing the blood and gore before him in an effort to stamp down on his arousal. 

     Stiles spends the rest of the movie staring at the screen, feeling proud of himself at not looking back at the eyes he could feel were locked on to his face.        

     The moment the credits rolled onto the screen, Stiles stood up and took Brad's arm to usher him up and out of the door, past a still sitting Peter.  Not looking back, he pulled the android along as fast as he could towards the exit. 

     "That was amazing Stiles."  He heard Brad say with wonder in his voice.  "The movie was very engrossing." 

     "Was that your first movie?"  Stiles asks as they walked towards the theatre exit, intent on sounding as nonchalant as possible. 

     "It is the first movie I have seen in theatres, yes."  He said, beaming.

     "Maybe I should have chosen something more appropriate for the occasion."  Stiles said.

     "No Stiles.  It was perfect."  He smiled.  "Especially when it was time spent with you.  I've uploaded the experience in the archive." 

     There was a brief bubble of concern that popped up in Stiles mind at another mention of the archive, but was quickly stamped down when Peter Hale stepped in front of them before the two were able to reach the exit. 

     "Peter."  Stiles greets with a jerky nod.  "Excuse us, but we're going home."  He says, trying to walk around the man.

      Peter just steps in their path again, a wide, friendly smile plastered on his face.  "No problem, I don't mind driving Brad home if you want." 

     "You don't know where he lives."  Stiles says.

     "He can tell me where he lives.  Or you can.  I have GPS on my car."  He responds.

     "It's too much trouble, I already know where he lives."  Stiles asserts, trying once more to step past Peter with Brad in hand.

     "Oh, it's no trouble at all."  Peter insists, face still smiling.  "I _really_ don't mind." 

     "It's alright.  I've got it."  Stiles says through gritted teeth. 

     Peter tilts his head at Stiles' words, the smile wiping off his face to be replaced by a contemplative one.  Slowly, the man takes a step back, his eyes still locked on to Stiles' own.  As swiftly as he could manage, Stiles pulls Brad along towards the jeep and only lets out a breath of relief once they were inside the jeep, the still-full bag of popcorn now on Brad's lap.

     "This was a wonderful evening Stiles.  I like movies.  I like popcorn too.  Especially with M&Ms.  I like Peter as well.  He is a very friendly fellow.  A very curious one too."  Brad announces from the passenger's seat, the smile still on his face, before turning his attention to the front of the car, occasionally throwing popcorn into his mouth.   

     "Yep.  That's how I'd define Peter.  Friendly."  Stiles says, mostly to himself. 

     Stiles had just started the car when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket.  Pulling it out and unlocking the phone, he reads a text; three little words that sent shivers down his spine. 

     **From Zombiewolf:**

     **He's not human.**

     Peter knew.  How he knew, Stiles didn't know.  The significance of this knowledge?  Stiles dreaded to find out. 

     Looking around the parking lot he finds Peter standing near the front doors looking back at Stiles.  Putting the jeep in drive, Stiles moves out of the parking lot while avoiding the gaze of one Peter Hale. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, this story is moving along. I'll try and keep the spirit of the comedy as much as possible, but there's going to be "moments" now that I've made this fic explicit. Just FYI. Muhahahahaha! >:D


	8. Whoa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bubble Tea Time with Brad and Stiles. Stiles finds a surprise when he gets home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late night upload, sorry this is so late.

     "You know it feels like it's been a longer day than usual?"  Stiles says as he drives into the parking lot of Bubba Bubble, Antioch's only late night bubble tea cafe.  "Actually, we've only been together for like two days, but somehow it feels longer.  Like, two weeks or something." 

     "Why do you feel that?"  Brad asks while climbing out of the car. 

     "I don't know.  I guess it's 'cause I've been in my head a lot more than usual.  Not to mention a lot more things have happened since you've arrived.  And like, they're condensed events, you know, all happening in a short space of time?"  Walking towards the door, Stiles pulls it open and motions for Brad to go inside. 

     The cafe was dimly lit and cozy.  Most of the interior was decorated in dark wood, including the furniture, and each table was lit by small red candles.  Long strands of small beaded light hung down from the ceiling giving the illusion of cascading stars.  It probably was a bit too intimate for something that wasn't a date, but Stiles loved their bubble tea selection, not to mention they're really one of the only handful of shops still open this late at night. 

     Walking up to the counter, Stiles smiled at a young teenage girl with a nose piercing and purple hair that's tied back into a pony tail. 

     "What can I getcha?"  She said with a tired smile. 

     "I'll have the Honeydew Slush with pearls and jelly, he'll..."  Stiles began to say but stopped himself to turn and look at Brad.  "Sorry, what did you want?"

     "Anything will do Stiles."  He responds with a smile.

     "Oh come on.  Live a little.  Just pick one from something up there."  Stiles said, pointing to the board menu above them.  "Anything at all.  What takes your fancy?"

     "You."  He said simply, leaning over to place a tender kiss on his neck. 

     The girls eyes grew wide and alert at the sight, her skin deepening to a bright crimson.  "Oh my god, that's so hot."  She says out loud.

     Suddenly very uncomfortable, Stiles shrugs his shoulder out of the android's face, "Uh, haha.  Yeah, okay. *ahem* Bubble Tea Brad.  I'm not on the menu."

     The android chuckles but leans in quickly for another kiss on Stiles' neck before turning to look at the board.  "Milky Chocolate Slush with pearls and jelly, please." 

     "Oh yeah.  Sure thing."  She says with a smile before a devious smile spread across her face.  "How about this, I'll make it two for one if you guys kiss." 

     "Seriously?"  Stiles eyes light up at the prospect of a free drink.  "Deal!"

     Turning around to face Brad, Stiles had every intention of leaning up to place a quick peck on Brad's lips.  But the android had other plans.  Placing a hand at the back of Stiles' neck, the android pulls him forward and into his body, his other hand cupping Stiles' lower back.  The kiss wasn't the tender kiss that Stiles wanted.  It was deep, passionate, and intense.  Their bodies pressed together, Brad's hands trying to pull as much of Stiles as he could onto himself, their skin flushed with heat and the force of Stiles lust starts to overwhelm him; likely a product of the unmentionable sexual frustration that bubbled due to Peter's earlier ministrations.  It was Brad that ended the kiss while Stiles worked to ignore the little voice in his mind that told him it should have been him who did so. 

     "Will that do?"  Brad asks with a smile at the girl, who was grinning toothily at the both of them.

     "Oh definitely, and then some.  You guys are getting free crispy popcorn chicken just for that."  She says with a grin and a wink before turning around to prepare their order. 

     "Okay.  Probably a bit excessive.  But for free crispy chicken?  Why not?"  Stiles says rolling his eyes and chuckling before heading towards an empty booth next to the large glass window, the furthest area from the front counter.  "Does that make me a whore?"

     Brad just laughs as he follows him, sitting next to him at the booth.  "Was that okay?  I gathered from your statement to the female that there was a sufficient level of consent.  And you did say before that you were a 'PDA sort of guy'."

     Stiles smiled.  "Yes Brad, that was fine.  You can probably assume that in the future if there's free bubble tea and chicken on the line, then I am more than willing to kiss you." 

     "Very well.  I will keep that in mind."  He says while nodding to himself amusing, Stiles at the fact that the android had taken his statement so seriously.  "Is it later now, Stiles?"

    "Later, for what?"  Stiles asks, confused.

    "Earlier in the evening, you said that we would continue the discussion we had earlier regarding the public discussion of your sexual fantasies, about privacy.  Is it later now?"  Brad asks.

    "Oh, right.  I forgot,"  Stiles sighs.  "But thanks for bringing that up.  That'll be important for tomorrow." 

     "During the picnic?"

     "Yep.  I don't want them knowing you're an android.  At least, not anymore."  Stiles said, running a hand through his hair.  "I keep on changing my mind, back and forth on this.  Like, I had grandiose plans with you, you know?  And you turned out to be something totally different from what I expected.  But you sometimes do act a bit inhuman."  He says while thinking about Peter's text.  Something that Stiles has to seriously think more about (like how did Peter know Brad wasn't human?)... but not at the moment.    

     "Grandiose plans?  Would you care to elaborate Stiles?  Also, what were you expecting?"  Brad asked curiously, tilting his head. 

     "Well..." Stiles began but stopped when he saw the girl exit the kitchen, walk around the counter, and move towards them. 

     "Here you guys are."  She said beaming.  "Thanks by the way.  It was a really boring night until you guys got here.  Whew.  You certainly added fuel to the fire."  Placing the food and drinks in front of them, she winks before walking away and back towards the kitchen. 

     Stiles takes a huge draw from his drink before smacking his lips and smiling.  "I love this.  Do you wanna try?"

     Smiling, Brad leans over and takes a draw of his drink while Stiles takes a draw of Brad's chocolate slush. 

     Still beaming at the android, Stiles asks "what do you think?"

     "It's delicious Stiles."  He says, wide eyed.  Turning to his drink the android takes a deep draw from his straw and... never stops.  Brad sucks his drink all the way to the bottom in a matter of seconds. 

     Stiles stares at him, dumbfounded as the android turns back to face him beaming. 

     "All done."  Brad announces. 

     "Ho... wow.  Good job?"  Stiles responds, amused as Brad reaches over to pop a chicken in his mouth.  Beaming at Stiles, the android turns to focus his attention on the chicken.  Stiles reaches over for a couple of bites before they run out.  He suspects the manner in which Brad ate the popcorn in the theatre wasn't an isolated incident.  The android had inhuman table manners too. 

     It only takes them a few minutes to finish off the chicken, with the android consuming most of it.  Stiles shakes his head in amused disbelief while Brad sucked on his fingers.  His own fingers.  Not Stiles fingers.  But watching the android suck those digits did make Stiles think about it.  And other things. 

     Stiles quickly turned his attention on sucking on the straw of his drink, drawing as much as he could and welcoming the piercing distraction of the brain freeze he got as a result.  He already made one bad sexual decision that night, and he wasn't willing to make another. 

     "As I was saying," Stiles starts while poking at his freezing head with his fingers.  "Umm... tomorrow.  Yeah.  You, no android.   I was... I had... ow... sorry, it's dying down.  Anyways, I had all these ideas when I first got you.  I imagined you as kinda like this multi purpose pranking machine, really."

     "Pranks?"  Brad asks, grinning. 

     "Yeah, you know, like I was gonna have you hack onto Jackson's cell.  Then like send him a text that he thinks comes from Lydia.  The text would read something like him meeting Lydia at the lacrosse field or something while wearing a dress, 'cause she was curious about getting into really kinky stuff that involved cross dressing.  All the while send a mass text to our friends to meet at the field shortly after the time I sent Jackson and they come up to see Jackson in like, a tutu or something."  Stiles explains excitedly.

     "And that is amusing?"  Brad asks.

     "Definitely."  Stiles nods.  "A bit cruel, maybe.  But if it was _really_ cruel, I'd do it somewhere where more random strangers would walk by and see Jackson.  But I'd limit it to just the p... our group of friends.  'Sides, that douche deserves it for the _years_ of torment Scott and I had because of him." 

     "You do not like this Jackson?" 

     "Well yes.  Technically.  Now."  Stiles rambles, thinking hard about the question.  "He's better now than he was before.  He was a huge douchebag until... something happened, to change him.  He's better now.  Personally, I think he'd find it hilarious.  He'd probably do it to me if he could.  And I'd definitely make it a tutu."

     Brad nods.  "I wish I could aid you in that plan, but unfortunately I am restricted from that specific feat."

     "Restricted?" 

     "Yes.  Although I would be capable of 'hacking his cell', as you say, with the aid of the archive, I am restricted by the company's failsafe code imbedded in my programming."  Brad says.

     "Failsafe code?"  Stiles asks, curious.  "Are they even using that word correctly?  But, seriously?  You have one?  Like Asimov's Three Laws of Robotics?"

     "It is similar in nature, yes.  My code goes into much more extensive detail regarding which specific actions are restricted than listed in Asimov's laws.  Although, the safety of my progenitor supersedes all priorities.  This is followed by the safety of the client, which is you, and then that of other humans."  Brad explains.  "Furthermore, I am restricted from utilizing specific abilities that transgress state and federal laws."

     "Whoa, seriously?"  Stiles asks, confused.  "Umm...  Progenitor?  Wait, so how does that work... with us?  You know, if we _did_ have sex?  'Cause I'm under age..."

     "In many ways **,** Penal Code, Section 261-269 does not apply to me as it would to you as I am not defined as a human being.  In fact, there are a number of laws that do not apply to me because of my status as a machine.  For example, I would not be considered an American Person, but I am considered as American Property.  As I do not have the status of personhood, I am incapable of voting in federal or state elections.  There are significant variations that needed to be clarified and managed when determining what restrictions entered my code.  It is important to note that I am uniquely modified for your convenience in several aspects, one of which enables us to have sexual congress without violating Penal Code, Section 261-269 by having the appearance of a seventeen year old teenager, even if that particular law does not technically apply to individuals having sexual congress with machines."  He lists.

     "Okay.  That's a lot of info."  Stiles says, wide eyed.  "And it sounds like there are a lot of really convenient rules... but I don't get it... when we had that discussion about consent the other day... you made it seem like there really wasn't a limit when it came to the things you'd let me do to you.  God, I know there are more important questions I should be asking, but my brain is having a difficult time processing things right now.  It's a lot." 

"To answer your primary query, regarding acts you wish to inflict upon me, there are no limits."  Brad announces with irritating nonchalance.  "Regarding acts you wish to inflict upon others through me, there is.  But as the client, you may do whatever you wish with me and to me."

     Stiles frowns.  "Don't call me 'the client'.  Don't ever call me that again.  Please.  It sound so... I just don't like it.  It makes me feel..."

     "I'm sorry."  Brad says sincerely.  "That was discourteous of me.  That is not how I feel Stiles.  I was merely stating the descriptions that exist within the archive.  That language has no bearing on how I feel about you, about us.  It sometimes slips my mind that certain descriptors are not deemed socially acceptable."

     Stiles rubs his head in frustration.  "I keep on forgetting.  Moments you know?  Spans of time that just keep on getting longer and longer the more we're together where I forget that you're not human... that you function with these different sets of rules and social conventions.  And now this whole thing about a failsafe code?  I feel like I'm getting in over my head.  Or I already was... and I'm starting to feel so incompetent that these things didn't even register in my head when I first got you.  I mean I was just going to use you as this sort of pranking machine.  But this... this is different."

     "I'm sorry."  Brad says sadly.  "This frustrates you.  I did not mean to upset you Stiles.  It is only ever my wish to make you happy." 

     Stiles smiles weakly.  "I get that Brad.  Thanks.  But the more I think about... certain things... I get... I don't know, sad?  Maybe a bit angry?  Agitated?  Confused?  I mean I think of you as a person, and then you say things like how you're not.  And part of me gets angry because you're starting to mean more to me than a... a machine.  And I'm starting to not like hearing you talk about yourself as if you were this disposable... thing, you know?  I mean, I can't have a conversation with my toaster.  I can't have _this_ conversation with my toaster.  Then I start to wonder whether or not this self-aware discussion we're having means you're something more, but then it keeps on going back in my head about how you're a machine... and I feel guilty about it.  Frankly Brad, I don't know _what_ to think.  Or how I'm supposed to feel.  And I keep feeling like there's something bigger, about this, that I'm missing or not understanding."

      Brad reaches forward to grasp one of Stiles' hands with his own.  Stiles' hands were warm, sweaty, and stiff with tension.  Brad rubs smoothing circles on Stiles' skin with his thumbs.  "Please, don't feel agitated.  You thinking that I'm something more... it means the world to me.  More than you can ever understand.  I am educated in the ways of the world through the archive.  But that education has its limits.  The archive is nothing compared to the experiences I have had with you.  I care for you Stiles.  I love you."

     _If it were only that simple_.  Stiles thinks, closing his eyes and sighing. 

     "What is this archive thing anyway?"  Stiles asks instead, changing the subject.  "It's that virtual library thing that you have access to, right?"

     "Yes.  It is that, and at the same time so much more.  The archive is not only a repository of human knowledge, it is also a repository of experience that qualifies that knowledge."  Brad explains.

     "What do you mean?"  Stiles asks, confused.

     "It is one thing to know, and another thing to understand."  Brad states.  "In a way, the archive is similar to a human brain.  It processes knowledge and experience to create a unified understanding of the world that I live in.  Whenever I connect to the archive, I am connected to these knowledge and experiences, and _my_ knowledge and experiences are in turn uploaded and analyzed by the archive for future androids to access, share, and learn."

     "For a moment there it almost sounded like this archive thing was alive."  Stiles says, smiling.  But Brad says nothing and just smiles in turn.  "So lots of androids sharing that place then?"

     "As of this moment?  I am the only one." 

     "What?  Really?  You can't be the only one."  Stiles says, surprised at the revelation.

     "I am the First Model; the Primary Prototype; the Alpha Experiment.  The knowledge and experience I acquire and upload to the archive will be used to create better android models for the future."  Brad smiles.  "As of right now, I am one of a kind." 

     "You always will be to me, Brad."  Stiles says softly, gripping Brad's hands tighter in his.  "Right, we got off topic again.  That keeps on happening whenever we have these types of conversation, don't we?"

     "That seems to be the pattern, yes."  Brad says, grinning.  "But I enjoy these conversation with you Stiles, even if they are not logically linear at times.  I feel it brings us closer by letting us understand each other more.  I want to share my life with you in its entirety.  I hope you'll be willing to do so in turn with yours." 

     "Oh, I don't know.  I think I'm pretty much an open book."  Stiles laughs.  "Not really a complicated guy."

     "You'd be surprised."  Brad says, suddenly serious.  "I find you astonishingly complicated." 

     "Thanks!"  Stiles says cheerfully, choosing to be pleased by the comment.  "But we do have to talk about tomorrow." 

     The smile returns on Brad's face.  "You know, I am still capable of playing pranks on your friends if it pleases you.  As long as it does not transgress state and federal laws." 

     "Now you're talking."  Stiles says grinning, excitedly.

     The rest of the night progresses enjoyable, the two chatting in the cafe until it closes at one o'clock.  They talk about many things, including the picnic the next day.  Stiles briefly explains his friends while avoiding mentioning anything about Werewolves, concerned about Brad's revelation about the archive.  The barista gives them two more free drinks to go for another one of their kisses at closing time.  Apparently she really liked watching them kiss.  Stiles didn't mind so much.  He was starting to really enjoy kissing Brad. 

     Stiles groaned in frustration by the time they reached the house.  The living room lights were still on, and Stiles noticed the consistent flickering of light through the blinds that indicated his father was still up watching T.V.

     "Right... how am I going to get you back up?"  He mumbles to himself in a huff.

     "It would be a simple matter for me to climb the side of your house and into your bedroom window Stiles.  It is an astonishingly simple task.  Now I understand how there have been others who have climbed through them, as you said before."

     "You'll be okay?" 

     "I will be fine.  Go ahead, I will silently move to the side of the house and climb to your window.  I will see you inside."  He says softly, leaning over to give Stiles a kiss on the cheek.  "You know this can easily be avoided by just telling your father the truth." 

     "Yeah.  Not ready for that."  Stiles says, fidgeting.  "There are a lot of things I should probably tell him.  But... yeah, not now.  Okay?"

     "Okay."  Brad nods and exits the car. 

     Making his way inside, Stiles expected to be grilled for coming home late by an irate parent only to find the sheriff passed out on the couch.  Smiling to himself, he prods his father awake. 

     "Dad, wake up.  That's not good for your back.  Come on, I'll take you up to your room."  Stiles says, bringing one of his father's arms around his shoulders and pulling the man up.

     The man mumbles something drowsily and rubs his head on Stiles' face before giving him a peck on the side of the head.  "grounded... late..." he mumbles.

     "What's that, I don't understand, you're talking gibberish.  Probably way to tired.  On to bed with you."  Stiles says, smiling before depositing his father on his bed and tucking him in, purposely trying to not make out whatever his father was mumbling in response. 

     After gently closing his father's bedroom door, Stiles makes his way to his own and stretches before opening the door.  Making his way inside, he yawns widely.

     "Brad, you ready to go to bed?"  Stiles says before he notices Brad standing by the window staring impassively towards the far end of the room.  Stiles stops in his tracks and follows the android's line of sight.  Turning towards the corner of his room, Stiles finds a glowering Derek Hale.                              

     _What?_   Is what he thinks.

     "What?"  Is what he says. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! DEREK! MUHAHAHAHA!
> 
> Also: Foreshadowing. :D DUNDUNDUUUUUN


	9. Eh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles fantasizes, Brad asks questions about Derek, they both go to a picnic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haven't edited. Will do later. Enjoy late chapter.

     Stiles stood gawking at the dour watchamacallsit glaring from the corner. 

     Derek.  That's the name.  The surprise appearance threw Stiles for a loop.

     Brad was staring at Derek, Derek at Brad, and Stiles was staring at both of them and the bathroom door.  Stiles' brain wasn't happy at all the staring going around. 

     Stiles' brain wanted things to go differently.

     1.)  Stiles' brain didn't want Derek to have been here at all.  It would have preferred to take a quick shower before bed and then just crash for the night.  Stiles' brain would have gladly preferred to have had the next ten plus hour-buffer until he saw Derek at the picnic (or however long it would be). 

     2.)  Stiles' brain would have preferred a perfectly amicable conversation to spontaneously break out between the three of them.

     "Oh, Stiles old boy.  How very well are you?"  Derek would ask.

     "I am very well, thank you old chap.  How about yourself?"  Stiles would respond jovially.

     "Oh very good, very good.  Hoo hoo hoo."  Derek would respond with a hearty guffaw.  "And who is _this_ dashing young man before me?"

    "Why this is Brad.  Quite a good friend of mine.  He shall be bedding with me tonight in a perfectly platonic fashion."  Stiles would answer.

     "Yes, I am indeed Brad.  It is my insurmountable pleasure to make your acquaintance Derek."  Brad would declare. 

     "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well my good man!"  Derek would declare, shaking Brad's hand.  (It is important to note that Stiles' brain pictures all three of them wearing long penguin-tailed suits and top hats.  Stiles is also wearing a monocle.)

     "I am not a robot at all."  Brad would say with a smile.

     "I am also not a werewolf."  Derek would respond with an equally amicable smile. 

     "Let's have an orgy."  Stiles would declare.

     "Oh, yes.  Let's."  Brad would say.

     "Jolly good."  Derek would agree.

     "Oh look.  Lydia and Allison seem to have made their way into my bedroom.  How are you ladies this fine evening?"  Stiles would ask. 

     "Oh, we're quite good thank you."  Lydia would respond with a perfectly convincing Georgian accent. 

     "We 'eard there wos gonna be an orgy, eh, guv'na?"  Allison would say with a cockney accent.

     "Well let's get right to it then."  Stiles would declare and then everyone would undress and pile on top of each other and just rut till the sun came up, everyone having a jolly good time. 

     Then Scott would suddenly show up wearing a matador cape and a Zorro mask and spray his cum everywhere, coating every, single, one of them with his seed.    

     Wow.  That fantasy certainly got away from Stiles' brain.  It was really all sorts of fucked up.  Stiles' brain was full of this really weird sickness.  A really weird sickness that apparently organized British bukakes.  Apparently Stiles' brain had been listening to his dad's weird Scott-assertion more than Stiles thought.  Or... was his father correct? 

    No.  Of course not.  Stiles thought that ridiculous.  A parental figure being correct about something?  How absurd.  Stiles laughs at the ridiculous things Stiles' brain thinks off. 

    3.)  The third scenario Stiles' brain thought up was confusing.  It was all in broken-Grade 12 Spanish with ridiculous subtitles.  And it was _way_ more melodramatic than Stiles ever expected things to be. 

    "How dare you be in my lover's house?"  Spanish-Soap-Opera-Derek would declare in subtitle, hands motioning wildly to convey his angry-emotion-of-anger. 

     "He does not love you!"  Spanish-Soap-Opera Brad would retort, stepping forward and dramatically tear off his clothes that just could not contain his sexy-Hispanic-rage.        

     "I challenge you to a duel!"  Soap-Opera Derek would declare, suddenly sporting a very healthy, thick, moustache that just randomly popped up out of nowhere. 

     Then suddenly both of them are wearing Traje Cortos (cortoses?) and there are two fat donkeys in the room, both of which just happen to look exactly like Jackson (and like a pokemon, brays " Jackson !" instead of making regular donkey noise) and both guys are armed with sabres. 

     "En garde!"  Soap-Opera Brad would cry with madness in his eyes. 

     "Dios mio!"  Soap-Opera Stiles would declare, throwing his hand to his forehead in distress.  "Think of the children!" 

     " Jackson !"  Jackson-donkey-brays. 

     Yep.  Nope.  Stiles' brain was all sorts of fucked up. 

     But it had been an especially long, emotionally draining, day. 

     Reality wasn't as interesting. 

     "Yeah, I'm too tired for this shit.  Also, I really need to piss."  Stiles sighed, waving his hand before moving towards the bathroom door.  Stiles' brain could go off and live in its fantasies.  Stiles' body was already far too overwhelmed with reality. 

     "Brad, Derek.  Derek, Brad."  He calls out behind him as he steps in through the bathroom doorway.  "Don't do anything I wouldn't do.  And do it quietly, my dad's sleeping."

     As Stiles passes by Derek while heading to his bathroom, Stiles swore that there was a moment where Derek makes this look... kinda like a mixture of frustration, longing, and disappointment all rolled into one very expressive glower.  But it had been a long day and it must have been another product of Stiles' fucked-up-hyper-expressive brain.  When he walked into the bathroom, he made sure to not look back.    

     So Stiles takes his time in the bathroom, revelling in the routine and the hot water cascading down his body.  This would be about the time that he'd jack off under the running water.  But oddly enough, he didn't feel like it anymore.  He'd been pretty solidly randy throughout the evening, but Derek-fucking-Hale standing outside his bathroom door was like a splash of anti-hormone.  Eau-du-Nun.  Parfum d'Eunuch.    

     He shouldn't be, mind you.  He'd be lying if he didn't admit that at one point or another that the Were had factored into his masturbation fantasies.  So he'll lie about it now.  'Cause he certainly didn't have fantasies like rubbing his face on Derek's stubble, his mouth making his way down the Were's neck, down his hard, muscled chest, down his treasure trail and to his... Woop.  There we go.  Hard on established through Stiles' non-existent-fantasies.  Apparently Stiles was randier than he first thought.  He wondered why seeing Derek glaring in his bedroom with Brad earlier on didn't... huh.  And Olgar just crashed and burned.  Stiles was starting to realize that he couldn't place Brad and Derek in the same thought without feeling a pestering sense of guilt. 

     Stiles huffed out a breath of frustration.  Why the hell would thinking about Brad and Derek make him feel guilty?  If anything it should be more fuel to his fantasies.  Hell, how about an orgy?  Let's throw Lydia and Emma Stone in there and have a party. 

     _Nope, get out of here Scott_.  Stiles thought, frustrated.  There definitely was some sort of Freudian thing that resulted from his father's earlier... accusation.          

     Drying off and brushing his teeth more forcefully and longer than he usually did, Stiles sighed before stepping out of the bathroom door, all to aware that he had forgotten to bring a change of clothes with him when he walked into the bathroom. 

     Outside, Stiles expected to see that things hadn't exactly changed.  He didn't quite know how long he'd spent inside the bathroom, but it must have been at least twenty minutes.  He was expecting Derek to still be there glaring at Brad, while the android just stared back curiously.  But upon stepping out of the doors, there was only the android perched comfortably in his bed, hands behinds his head. 

     "My turn now, Stiles?"  The android asks, jumping off the bed with an eager smile. 

     "Uh yeah,"  Stiles said, confused, while turning to check out the open window.  "Go ahead."

     "I assumed he was one of your frequent visitors that came in through the window.  I opted not to evict him from the room expecting him to be your friend.  Did I do the right thing, Stiles?"  Brad asked. 

     "Yeah.  No, that's fine."  Stiles mumbled while closing the window shut.  "You'd think people would learn to use the door."

     "But he did use the door."  Brad declared. 

     "Huh?"  Stiles asks, surprised. 

     "After you went in for your shower, he quietly left the room and out through your front door."  Brad said.  "I locked up after he left." 

     Stiles just nodded, not really knowing what to say.  Although it probably should have made sense.  Brad was a stranger to Derek.  It would have been far too revealing if he suddenly jumped out of the window like a supernatural acrobat.  It made sense.  It was late at night too, and he came over uninvited, so no goodbyes were necessary.  It was better that way, Stiles thought.  It made sense. 

     "Go take your shower Brad, then we'll go to sleep.  We have a big day tomorrow."  He said. 

     The moment the android closed the door of the bathroom, Stiles changed into his sleeping clothes, tucked himself in to bed, and closed his eyes before the android was even finished.  Stiles wanted to dream away the nagging yearning in his heart. 

     The very next day, the Sheriff woke and left early to bond with several new guys in the force via a fishing trip.  Stiles woke just as early and rustled up some eggs and toast for his dad and helped him pack some of the gear into his patrol truck.  This gave Stiles and Brad the chance to have their first breakfast together.  It was Brad who cooked for Stiles.  The android made some bacon and ridiculously fancy fandangled-egg-thingmajig with salsa, green onions, and some heavenly balanced spices.  Stiles could practically hear his taste buds singing praise. 

     "Maybe I should just tell them."  Stiles blurts out through a mouthful of eggs, spraying Brad on the face. 

     Wiping off some of the eggs, Brad says, "why have you changed your mind?"

     "You think I shouldn't?"  Stiles asked after swallowing. 

     "There are no provisions in the contract that says my identity must be kept secret.  You may do what you wish."  Brad explains.  "But, if I may ask.  Why are you in two minds regarding this subject?" 

     "Well,"  Stiles starts, his face scrunching up in concentration.  "initially I wasn't really going to bother hiding things... to the degree that I am now.  I was gonna tell my friend Scott, you know?  He's my brofriend and I wanted to share this with him.  But then as it turns out, you're all complicated.  Not to mention all that other stuff that happened first that kinda derailed all of my plans.  But yeah, I don't know... a part of me thinks that if they knew, you'd be treated differently, you know?  Or maybe not?  I think my friends are pretty understanding... well, most of them.  For the most part.  I think.  I'm sure.  Well..."

     Stiles huffs out a breath of frustration, raising a hand to scrub his face.  "Then there's the sharing thing, I suppose." 

     "The sharing thing?"  Brad asks.

     "I kinda... don't want to share you."  Stiles admits, squinting his eyes as if it were quite difficult to admit such a thing.  "It's like, it's kinda nice having this secret apart from all of them, you know?  It's not like I like hiding things from them, I don't!  But, well... you know.  Frankly I'm surprised that you're not as well-known as you should be.  I mean, I know _I_ thought that the whole contest was absurd... but I really thought there'd be some sort of media attention on it, you know?  Biologically realistic androids and all that?  It's a big deal right?"

     Brad tilts his head for a moment and turns to look at empty space.  It takes him a minute to be able to respond to Stiles' question.  "I do not know.  All my knowledge of media events would indicate that there should have been sufficient fanfare during my release.  I have not been aware of any of the sort since my activation.  Was there any before that?"

     "No.  They dropped you off early Thursday morning.  You were in this coffin thing and there were a lot of bodyguards escorting you along with this Veronica lady in blue."  Stiles says.  "Now that you mention it, it _is_ pretty odd, right?  I mean, you're a big deal Brad.  I don't know why I'm just thinking about this now, but dude, you totally should be like in the news.  Why aren't you?"

     "I do not know."  Brad responds.  "But I am relieved that that is the case."

     "Why's that?"

     "Because it means I get to spend more quality time with you."  The android said simply.  "Significant fanfare would carve out time we would otherwise spend together.  I am quite pleased with this arrangement."

     "Mmm."  Was all Stiles said, the situation still bothering him for a bit. 

     "So you wish for my status as an android to be revealed to your friends?"  Brad asks, breaking Stiles from his reverie. 

     Stiles huffs out a sigh, distracted from the train of thought he was chasing.  "I don't know.  Frankly, I don't know why I keep on changing my mind."

     _Derek_.  Is what Stiles' brain said. 

     Stiles ignores what Stiles' brain said. 

     "You know what?  Screw it.  Que sera, sera."  Stiles declares.  "If they find out?  Then they find out.  If they don't?  Well, we can have some fun in the meantime.  I don't know what kind of activities Lydia has planned in the meantime, but there probably will be games involved.  I think it'd be hilarious if you use a little android-elbow-grease to play the system a bit." 

     "Would that not be cheating?"  Brad asks, raising an eyebrow.

     "And if you do not play the games to the best of your abilities, would that not be just throwing the game?  Manipulating the outcome of the game just in another way?  So, that'd be kinda like cheating too."  Stiles argues.  "So really, the best thing to do would be to play the games as you are.  Android abilities an all."

     "If you say so, Stiles."  Brad says, nodding.

     "Beside.  I know one or two people in there that would do well getting knocked down a peg or too."  Stiles grumbles.  "Believe me when I say that a bunch of them have their own type of unfair advantage." 

     Stiles turns his attention back to his breakfast, shovelling eggs into his mouth with ease.  But Brad doesn't tuck into his food at all, still perfectly placed and untouched on his plate.  The android waits until Stiles comes up from his food for a drink of water before asking a question. 

     "What is your relationship with Derek?"  Brad asks. 

     The question surprised Stiles to such a degree that he chokes on his drink.  It takes Stiles half a minute before the wracking coughs subsides before he answers Brad.  "Sorry, what?"

     "He did not seem pleased that to find I was in your room.  I also noticed his expression changed when you asked whether or not I was ready for bed when you were entering the room."  He explains.

     "Expression what, what?"  Stiles asks, confused.  "Changed what from what?"

     Brad tilts his head curiously as he speaks.  "The moment I became aware of his presence after climbing your window, he was already looking at me with a look of... hostility.  Then when he heard your question as you stepped through the door, his expression changed to one of surprise before his face calmed down into an impassive expression." 

     "Oh, that."  Stiles says while rolling his eyes.  "Probably was just thinking how absurd it sounded like I bagged a guy like you." 

     "Bagged a guy like me?"  The android asked curiously.

     "You're hot Brad."  Stiles said seriously.  "I'm not.  It doesn't really fit.  Plus what I said probably threw him for a loop.  I'm sure he doesn't like thinking about me in any type of sexual situation." 

     "I do not think that is the case."  Brad says calmly. 

     "Why do you say that?"

     "Because after you went into the bathroom, his gaze followed you.  For the briefest moment, there was an expression on his face that I could only describe as longing before turning to face me with an expression that I would associate with anger, and jealousy."  Brad replies. 

     Stumped for a moment, Stiles just stares at his android.  Then he laughs.  Loudly.  The kind of laugh where one ends up coughing in the end due to the sheer absurdity of the joke.  "Yeah.  No.  The guy was probably just constipated.  He has a _very_ narrow repertoire of looks.  The emotions you described are far too complicated for someone like Derek Hale to express.  His face usually moves through different degrees of glowering if it's not impassive.  You'll get the hang of it the more you know him."

     "I disagree Stiles.  I do not think that is the case."  Brad says, shaking his head.

     "Why?  What happened afterwards?"

     "Nothing."  Brad says.  "After looking at me for a moment, he turned and walked out of the door.  But Stiles, do you not wonder why he was in your room at such an hour?"

     "It's not the first time he's been there at that time."  Stiles says carelessly, getting an odd look from Brad.  "Not what I meant.  Usually he wants something, or telling me to do something for him and his... friends.  Nothing that would cause him to 'long' or be 'jealous' or whatever.  He likely just had something to tell me but couldn't because you were there.  It's nothing Brad."

     "If you say so Stiles."  Brad replies simply. 

     Finishing their breakfast, the two play games on one of Stiles' console, wile away time until the time came for them to leave.  Since Lydia declared that all preparations regarding the picnic would fall under her purview, Stiles saw no reason for him to bring anything at all.  Just his everyday, wonderful self and his good 'ol android. 

     Stiles and android.

     Android and pal.

     Good 'ol Stiles and his rockin' robot.         

     Arriving at the park ten minutes after twelve, Stiles could already pick out his pack from the parking lot.  It wasn't that difficult as the park was surprisingly deserted for a Saturday afternoon.  But what really caught Stiles' eyes was the fact that even from a distance, he could already tell that Lydia had gone a bit overboard with her preparations.  Even from the parking lot, Stiles could already tell that this wouldn't be a typical picnic.  At least not any picnic he'd ever seen before.  Lydia brought tents for goodness sakes.  Or at least they looked like tents.

     Stiles saw two huge, white, canopies in the distance where he saw members of the pack were flowing in and out of.  Stepping closer he found that inside the canopies were these large white, steel and glass tables that held a large amount of food.  The park floor was even carpeted.  Not to mention there was this thin, sheer netting that covered the entrances to keep out any bugs. 

     Lydia was the first to greet them, Allison at her side waving with a bright smile on her face.  To his surprise, he saw Danny exit one of the tents with a smile on his face and a laughing Jackson following after him. 

     "You're late."  Lydia said with narrowed eyes. 

     "Er... Lydia?  I don't think this counts as a picnic."  Stiles says, dumbfounded.  "What're those..."

     But Stiles couldn't finish his thought as Peter Hale stepped out of one of the tents, a mischievous smile on his face.  But if the presence of the elder Hale in an event organized by Lydia Martin wasn't enough to stump him (or Danny's presence in something Derek labelled as "pack bonding" - since when did Derek consider Danny as pack?), Derek walks out of the tent after his uncle.  It wasn't so much the fact that Derek was there as much as the fact that he wore a bright smile on his face.  A wide smile.  Very toothy.  Stiles wasn't sure if he should be flustered or be so freaked out that he should turn tail and run for his life. 

     Good lord was it ever a big smile.

     But what really short circuited Stiles' brain was what Derek did next.

     "Stiles!"  The Sourwolf greeted.  Or usually-sour-wolf.  "You're here." 

     If that weird greeting wasn't enough, it was the hug that followed that really had Stiles' eyes bugging out of his head. 

     Not just an awkward quick-pat-on-the-back sorta hug.  It was the both-arms-around-the-body-pulling-hugee-to-press-very-very-closely-into-huger-type-of-hug.  Stiles' arms were stiff beside him while Derek crushed him into a hug that seemed unnaturally long to Stiles. 

     "I'm glad you're here."  Derek breathes into his ear. 

     Brain imploding, Stiles flails out of the Were's arms and kicks him in the nuts.      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouch.


	10. Oh?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang play dodge ball.  
> &  
> Dark beginnings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Here's a really long chapter.

     Stiles had heard people talk about how their whole lives flash before their eyes when faced with certain life or death situations.  How in a blink of an eye they witness their whole lives from conception (ew), and birth (really, ew), all the way up to the very moment, the defining event, that caused the flashbacks to occur.  Then there are others who say that there were no flashbacks, but instead experienced an incident where time slowed down to a crawl as the whole event unfolded in a birds-eye-like view; detached and calculating.  Stiles experienced both, oddly enough.  It was a brief moment of time that stretched into forever; he saw his whole life in a blink of an eye that slowed to a crawl as he neared the end of it all. 

     In Stiles' mind, he saw the whole thing happen in slow motion from above, as if his spirit had been removed itself and hovered over his body.  He could see himself flail out of Derek's arms, face scrunching up in confusion and panic.  He saw himself step away from the Were and rear his legs back before swinging it forward.  In Stiles' mind, the whole thing played out like a slow motion car-wreck scene from a movie, complete with dramatic baroque music playing in the background.  But in Stiles' case, it was Chariots of Fire.  The whole scene seemed agonizingly slow and Stiles screamed at himself to stop for he had so much to live for.  But Stiles legs continued to move up, closer and closer towards Derek's nutsack.  There was a moment where the goosebumps-inducing-sickly-sweet smile on Derek's face slowly levelled into confusion before turning into one of shock as Stiles' foot met his jewels.  Stiles' out of body experience allowed him to see the dawning shock cross Lydia and Allison's faces as Stiles' foot smashed into Derek's johnson.  Standing behind Derek, Stiles saw Peter's smile grew wider in clear amusement while Derek's right eyebrow shoots up in surprise. 

     Stiles heard Lydia calling his name, her voice deep and slow, while Allison exclaimed in shock.  He saw Derek's face scrunch up in confusion as Stiles foot drove up into his crotch.  A look of surprise crossed Stiles' once-confused-face as if it were curiously astonished at what his foot had just done.  Then the moment of forever stopped and Stiles staggered back as his foot dropped back to the ground.  Derek let out a brief, pained, grunt and levelled a look of surprise in his eyes aimed squarely at Stiles.

     "Oh my god!"  Lydia exclaimed.  "What the hell is wrong with you?"

     "Derek!"  Allison cried in surprise.

      "What just happened?"  Stiles heard Brad ask from somewhere beside him. 

     Stiles had the sudden urge to flail in a panic and run away.  So flail and run away he did, emitting panicked noises all the while.  Unfortunately he didn't move very far before a body tackles him into the ground.

     "I got him!"  Erica declared, laughing all the while as she clutched a struggling Stiles in her arms. 

     "Traitor!"  Stiles cried. 

     "I can't believe you just roshamboed Derek."  Erica says with a wide grin.  "Not that it did much damage, mind you." 

     "It's not Derek!  It's an impostor!  And roshambo?  Really?  What is this, 2003?"  Stiles cried as he struggled in Erica's arms.  It was then that Stiles heard the much louder guffaw echoing in the background.  "Shut up Jackson!" 

     "Oh man, you must have one hell of a death wish."  Erica says, grinning. 

     "It's his fault!"  Stiles whines. 

     "It's fine."  He hears an unusually even voice call out behind them.  "Erica, get off him.  Shut up Jackson.  Stiles, it's fine.  I'm alright."

     "What, seriously?"  Erica says curiously as she pulls herself and Stiles up onto their feet.  "Okay, who are you and what did you do to Derek Hale?"

     "See!"  Stiles motioned to Derek, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.    

     "It's fine."  Derek says managing a growl.  "He'd need to kick harder than that for me to actually feel something."    

     "Seriously?  What you have balls of steel or something?"  Stiles huffs out.  "Or what, is it some sort of secret kink of yours; my foot on your balls?"

     Stiles has no idea where that sentence came from and regretted them the moment they came out of his lips.  Erica just buried her face in his neck and, he swears, starts to suppress a violent giggle that seemed to have wracked her body.  Everybody else just looks at him uncomfortably.  Except for Peter who winks at him when their eyes meet.   

     Not really knowing what to say next, Stiles was all too relieved when Brad began to talk. 

     "Roshambo?  I have the definition of that game.  Are we playing?"  the android asked happily.

     "Mmm... yes, why not?  Why don't we play, Brad?  I'll go first, shall I?"  Peter offers with a wide smile and steps forward towards Brad. 

     "No!"  Stiles and Derek say at the same time, causing Peter to roll his eyes. 

     "No, we're not playing roshambo.  No one should _ever_ play roshambo.  No one say roshambo ever again.  _Ever_.  I'm fine, everything's fine, we're moving on."  Derek says through gritted teeth.  Derek lets out a huff of irritation before turning away from Stiles.  He plasters an It-the-Clown smile on his face before moving forward towards Brad, his right hand offered as a greeting.  "Let's try this again, alright?  You're Brad, right?  I'm Derek." 

     It was a quick glance at a calculating Peter standing behind Derek that pushed Stiles to hustle between the Alpha and his android, effectively cutting off Derek's attempts at civility.    

    "Derek, Brad.  Brad, Derek.  Hasn't changed since last night."  Stiles babbles quickly, interrupting whatever Derek was about to say.  Stiles realizes that none of the others must have known that little tidbit of information and they all look at him curiously, except for Erica who's smirking for all its worth.  Stiles stumbles along, intent on ignoring all of the curious stares being thrown his way.  "Brad; Lydia, Allison, Jackson, Danny, Erica.   Lydia, Allison, Jackson, Danny, Erica; Brad.  There's creeper Peter, you've met.  Where's Isaac and Scott?  Brad, the two guys still missing and who you'll be meeting soon are Isaac and Scott.  Scott's the one with the default 'confused puppy' look, while Isaac's the one that likes to steal confused puppies.  Sorry guys, no handshakes. Brad doesn't like to be touched."

     "I have no aversion to tactile contact, Stiles."  Brad says, confused.  "Also, what does one who 'likes to steal confused puppies' look like?"   

     "First question:  Yeah, you do.  Serious issue with people you don't know.  You go all crazy and ninja on their butts if they so much as poke you.  I'm talking about hair pulling and eye poking.  It's definitely a serious problem that we'll have to work on when we have the time.  I'll be Doctor Phil, you'll be the angsty, awkward, teenager.  Second question:  thick rosy lips, irritatingly Greek Adonis hair, dumbfounded neutral expression.  Now, let's go over there.  There's food.  Let's see how many sandwiches we can fit into our mouths, huh?"  He says quickly before pulling Brad along towards the food-covered table under the largest awning.

     But Lydia stops them on their tracks, holding Stiles down with a look of pure displeasure and hisses at him through gritted teeth.  "Stiles, you're being rude.  Quit it."

     Turning to face Brad, she plasters on a perfectly practiced happy face and beams at him.  "I'm Lydia Martin.  We met on the field.  You know, before you accosted my friend.  A pleasure to meet you." 

     "It is a pleasure to meet you as well.  I understand that this event was organized by you.  I have never been to a picnic before, I'm quite looking forward to it."  Brad replied.  "But I do have to apologize about our first meeting.  Stiles has explained that I was quite rude that day."

     "Oh, it's fine.  I know how it feels to be swept up in the romance."  She said, smirking. 

     "Really?  Jackson, a romantic?"  Stiles asked sceptically.  "Can narcissistic people _be_ romantic?  Other than to a mirror that is.  Doesn't Jackson have a blow up doll of himself?" 

     "That's because you don't know him very well."  She says through narrowed eyes as Jackson yells a 'screw you Stilinski!' from somewhere behind them.  "Anyways, no eating right now." 

     "What, why not?  The food's just there."  Stiles whined.

     "Because we're playing first.  If you eat now, then we'll have to wait another hour before people can do anything strenuous.  It's better to play first,  It'll work up our appetite." 

     "I already have an appetite."  Stiles grumbled. 

     "You always have an appetite.  So, if you need a change of clothes, I brought a whole bunch of outfits, it's in the other tent behind those two.  Go and change, Isaac and Scott already are."  She tilts her head as she smiles.  "We already decided on the teams before you got here."

     "Seriously?  Lydia, three tents?"  Stiles says evenly, suddenly overcome by a sense of dread at Lydia's smile.  "What're we playing?"

     "Mmhmm."  She responds with a tight lipped smile.  "Go change.  The team rosters are tacked onto the clothes rack.  Change into the appropriate outfits, please." 

     With a frustrated huff, Stiles takes Brad's hand and stomps towards the other tent.  Walking into the white awning Stiles finds a makeshift changing room complete with benches and clothes racks (shorts, shirts, and all), one with bright blue uniforms and the other with deep, blood red clothes.

     "This is overkill Lydia."  He yells out of the tent before a stoic Derek walks in. 

     Stiles quickly steps back, eyes still locked on to Derek's face, his hands automatically cupping the front of his crotch.  Derek rolls his eyes  and stalks past him towards one of the racks. 

     Stiles lets out a surprisingly disappointed sigh.  As if Derek Hale was ever going to go anywhere near his crotch.  If that wasn't clear evidence that he was suffering some sort of psychological deficiency, the fact that he actually entertained Derek kicking him in the balls as a pleasant thought, he didn't know what would. 

     "We're red."  He hears a gruff voice say behind him.

     "What?"  Stiles asks, turning around in surprise.

     "We're red team."  Derek says with a blank expression and pointing at a piece of paper tacked on to one of the racks.  "You, Brad, and me." 

     _Screw you sideways,_ _Lydia_ _!_   Stiles thinks to himself.          

     "Excellent.  I am looking forward to playing with you Derek."  Brad says cheerfully before stepping forward to the right uniforms. 

     Derek just huffs out a grunt in reply.

     "That's Derek for, 'me too, this'll be fun Brad'."  Stiles says sarcastically.  Derek ignores him. 

     "Oh, well _I_ think this _will_ be fun."  Creeper-McCreepster-Voice-of-Doom says behind Stiles, causing the young man to jump.  Peter pulls an innocuous piece of string hanging near a post to close the tent flap/door and stalks past him to check the list before sighing heavily.  "Mmm, I'm blue.  I really was hoping we'd be on the same team." 

     _I love you_ _Lydia_ _._  Stiles thinks to himself.

     Heaving out a sigh, Stiles steps towards the rack of red jerseys to change.  Making his way in the space between Derek and Brad, Stiles strips off his shirt before a thought just occurred to him.  He's stripping in a room tent full of guys that at one point or another he's had sex dreams about.  Fortunately, Stiles has had plenty of practice with subverting his libidinous reactions while in the presence of half-naked boys in a small confined space (and sometimes, successfully).  To be fair, none of them were Werewolves with extra keen senses.  But it was a simple, and very effective, matter of employing a powerful technique known as, 'wilful ignorance'.  No, Stiles does _not_ have a hard-on.  No, Stiles does _not_ want to press his nose against Derek's, Peter's, or Brad's skin and breathe like he would suffocate otherwise.  No, neither Derek nor Peter notice anything lengthening in his pants.    

     A sharp cracking sound pulls Stiles out of his mantra to find Derek and Peter staring at him with wide, wild, eyes. 

     "Bench broke."  Derek says through gritted teeth before standing up to rush out of the door. 

     Glancing down, Stiles sees a long meandering crack of splintered wood right on the spot of the bench where Derek had just been.  Stiles turns to barely see Derek's retreating figure exit the tent.  He doesn't notice Peter stepping into his space until the man speaks closely into his ear. 

     "Ready?"  He says huskily, causing Stiles to shuffle away in surprise.  "How about you Brad, ready?" 

     "Yes."  The android said simply.  Turning to face him, Stiles sees Brad studying his face curiously.

     "What?"  Stiles asks curiously.

     "Nothing."  Brad says before following Peter out of the tent. 

     Rushing to put on his uniform and a pair of shorts, Stiles chases after them unnerved and confused. 

     "I'm surprised you didn't supply the jockstraps."  Stiles says sarcastically when he finds Lydia. 

     "Oh, please.  I'd never go anywhere near those disgusting things."  She responds regally. 

     "She's lying."  Erica says as she passes by, causing a blush to spread across Lydia's cheeks. 

     "Let's go!"  She screeches, louder than she probably intended to, and claps her hands twice for good measure.  "On to the court."

     Their little troop of people walk about a hundred metres away from their tents towards a medium sized park tennis court surrounded by a tall chain link fence.  Stiles straggled behind a bit, watching the others walk in front of him when Danny holds back to walk in line with Stiles.

     "Really, Stilinski?"  He asks, smiling and glancing at Brad's back.  I thought you were pulling my leg with the whole 'attractive to gay guys thing'.  But damn..."

     Stiles smiles self-consciously and gives a quick glance at the group not far in front of them, all to aware that there would be several Wolfy-ears listening intently to their conversation.  "Uh, yeah... it's not really what it looks like."

     "Well, I'm not so sure about that.  But I think I was right... seeing the way the guy looks at you, you must be pulling something."  Danny says deviously.  "You guys look good together, you know?"

     "Oh, I don't know..."  Stiles mumbles before glancing at Derek's ridiculously muscular back (and he might have briefly glanced at Peter too, but he would never admit that). 

     "Fuck him."  Danny says, causing Stiles to start and stare at the goalie in surprise.  Danny looks at Derek's back before turning back to Stiles.  "Not literally Stiles.  He's your cousin for crying out loud.  Besides, I think you deserve someone happier and doesn't just try to look like it.  The guy's _way_ too intense for his own good." 

     "I don't know what you're talking about."  Stiles mutters before becoming too invested with glaring at the grass. 

     "Hey, who's the hot older guy?"  Danny whispers close to Stiles ear. 

     This causes Stiles to stop in his tracks and turn to stare at Danny in surprise.  "Peter?  Are you serious?"

     "What?  I might have a bit of a daddy kink.  Don't judge me.  You have an angsty boner for your cousin."  He retorts, rolling his eyes. 

     "I seriously don't want to go there.  This is getting _way_ too disturbing."  Stiles says shaking his head.  Turning to look at the group that was now further along, Stiles swears he noticed a significant shift in the way Peter walked; with considerably more swag than he should, confirming Stiles' suspicions that he was listening in to their conversation.  At one point Peter even flexed his butt - each cheek doing a little dance.  God help Stiles for he chubbed a bit at the sight.    

     "I am a predictably fucked up ball of teenage hormones my friend."  Stiles says wearily before clapping Danny on the back and moving forward.  "I'm glad you're here by the way.  We really should hang out more." 

     "Well, it's not my fault."  Danny shrugs.  "You guys have gotten into this sort of exclusive club lately and kinda left me in the dust.  I'm just happy Jackson asked me to come." 

     "Well, cut us some slack, will ya?  Believe me, it was for your own good."  Stiles says shaking his head. 

     "Is it weird that I believe you?"  Danny says with surprise. 

     "Not at all.  I'm a _very_ trust worthy guy."  Stiles grins causing Danny to laugh and shake his head.    

     There were two typical tennis courts inside but with their nets taken down and three green balls lined up in the middle.  The moment they all make it inside, Lydia turns to face them with a serious look on her face.

     "Listen up.  It's blue vs. red.  First team to eliminate all of the members of the other team _wins_.  There are three balls.  You get hit by the ball, you're out.  You can only hold and throw _one_ ball at a time.  In this game, catching the ball does _not_ mean the person who threw it is out; just to be fair since a lot of people here have _unusually_ good reflexes.  I've balanced the teams as well as I logically could.  Blue team are: Scott, Jackson, Allison, Danny, Peter, and Isaac.  Red team: Erica, Brad, Stiles, Derek, Boyd, and myself."

     "Doesn't seem fair to me..." Stiles mumbles, realizing the greater number of Weres on the other team.  He represses a smirk at the thought of Brad surprising them all. 

     "There will be _no_ cheating."  Lydia says over Stiles grumbled words, emphasizing the _no_ with a sharp glare at Jackson, Erica, and Peter.  " _No_ roughhousing.  The winners get a special treat." 

     "What do they get?"  Isaac asks eagerly. 

     "Each player from the winning team gets to use my beach house for a weekend of their choosing.  Separately, not at the same time."  She says smiling. 

     Jackson snorts out loud.  "I already have a beach house."

     "If Jackson wins, I don't get to nag him for a month."  Lydia says smirking.

     "Can we have that instead?"  Erica sasses, but everyone else surreptitiously smiles in agreement. 

     A fierce, determined look crosses Jackson face and starts pumping himself up by pummelling one hand with the other.  "We're winning this thing."

     "Of course, when you lose Jackson, you get to take me to any musical of my choice.  For a month.  _And_ , we'll be dressing up.  'Cause we'll be eating at Dans Une Petite Vache at every opportunity we can."  She says, beaming. 

     Jackson snarls and faces his team with a dark look.  "Look you losers, if I end up watching Annie Get Your Gun _one more time_ , I'm going to do _everything_ in my power to make your lives miserable."

     "Oh, I don't know.  I love that show."  Peter says rocking back on his heels and smiling before whistling the tune of _Anything You Can Do_.           

     "Okay, head to the opposing sides of the court.  I'll count down."  Lydia says.

     There were a lot of posturing coming from both teams.  Jackson leers haughtily at everyone on the Red team before cracking his knuckles and walking away.  Allison smiles mischievously and twiddles her fingers calling on the opposing team to 'bring it on'.  Peter blows Stiles a kiss, getting a glower from Derek in return.  Scott whoops excitedly and practically skips to their side of the court.  Isaac tilts his head back and tugs on the front of his uniform before moving back, in an effort to convey swag. 

     "Bring it on bitches!"  Erica calls out before whipping her hair back and sauntering to their side of the fence. 

     Boyd gives the opposing team a terse nod before moving to stand beside Erica.  Lydia just smiles and calmly walks to stand with the others as if she had nothing to worry about.  Stiles tries to posture by swinging his hands wildly in front of him, his fingers pointed in a gun-like fashion, and grunting out 'yeah boy' at Jackson's face.  Derek just grumbles and grabs a handful of Stiles' shirt before pushing him towards the edge of the court line.  Brad calmly follows suit.     

 _"Two misfit bands, both alike in dignity,_  
In fair Beacon Hills, where we lay our scene,  
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,  
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean."

     "Shut up Stiles."  Erica, Derek, and Lydia hiss before crouching down to glare intently at the ball before Erica adds, "and that was a terrible English accent."       

     It was an inauspicious Saturday afternoon that hid behind clear skies and a bright sun.  Amongst the silent green trees and waving blades of grass, on top of a dull ochre hard court and rusted metal poles, stood twelve, tense figures with battle in their eyes.  Blood pounded in their ears as the wind played a tune of strife that thrummed along their skin.  There was a voice that called out numbers that rang in the air;  muscles tensed and eyes narrowed as the countdown neared the end.  It was One that let loose the arrow from the bow.  It was One that thundered the soil and pierced the light of the sun.  It was One that cried havoc and let slip the Weres of war. 

     A flurry of limbs and feet pounded the ground as they raced towards the globes of misfortune that stood impassively on the earth.  Derek and Peter were the first to reach their goal, sights set on each other's eyes, before staggering back quickly with the ball.  Jackson thundered through the hard top, face drawn with intent as Erica bared her teeth as her hand shot forward to claim her prize.  Grunting out a last boost of effort, Jackson lunches forward with his hands extended, Erica's eyes narrowing in anger, before his hands swiped the girl's arm away with a sharp blow and grabbed the ball with his other.  Jumping back he smirked at the girl who growls at him with fury shining in her eyes. 

     A ball shoots towards her, moving at an astonishingly high speed, aimed squarely at her head before a large black, well muscled arm pulls her out of the way to smack loudly on the chain link fence behind them.  A red headed Queen picks up the ball before moving forward, hand rearing back and eyes narrowed with intent, before shooting it towards the hunter with long dark tresses.  The hunter jumps out of the way in a twirl of dark locks and tight clothes, the ball almost touching her hair, as another ball quickly travels forward aimed entirely at where she would land.  Someone screams her name.  A wide eyed boy with large warm eyes quickly moves to jump in the way.  The hunter's eyes widened with surprise as the projectile hits the boy square in the heart, his body standing sentry in front of hers.  He grunts in pain as he staggers back and into the arms of his lover that cries out his name. 

     Scott McCall was no more.    

     An ally, a friend, a so much more, cries out in fury as he clutches the ball in his tight hand after seeing his comrade fall at the hands of the enemy.  The blonde haired, broken warrior steps forward and rears his hand back for a blow; aiming squarely at a grinning, stubble, faced man with caterpillar eyebrows.  His fury dulls the scream of his name as the ball shoots through the air towards his master.  A hand shoots out in an inhuman speed, and a dark haired man with kind eyes stood calmly staring at him. 

     "Brad."  The red headed Queen breathes, so astonished at the boy's speed. 

     Behind him, the Alpha narrows his eyes and studies the hands that hovered in the air before him.  But before anyone takes notice, another ball comes flying towards their court, aimed specifically at the dumbfounded boy who was too busy looking at a particularly large butterfly passing by.  An impossibly swift movement from a large body jerks towards him and pulls him out of the way just as Boyd's large hands darts forward to catch the ball.  But the dark stallion's awareness had been split, for below his sight another ball travelled forward to clout him on the thigh.  His golden haired lover had been unable to see the ball, and she darts forward towards him with concern, reprimanding herself in her mind for letting her Other down.  Boyd huffs out a sound as he falls to his knees and long, warm, hands surround his body before soft lips touched his neck.  The fallen man takes the ball in his hands and offers it to his mate, and whispers his last words, "do it for me" before he left their match. 

     "Pay attention!"  A deep rumbling voiced hissed in Stiles ears, and his body shook at the sound and the caressing breathe in his ear.  The older man's touch lingers on his skin, causing the younger man to shudder at the sensation.  "You _have_ to be careful." 

     "I shall protect you."  Brad says stepping forward, ball in hand. 

     Erica offers her extra ball to her Alpha, and the three of them, Brad, Derek, and her, step forward a few paces to study their opponents. 

     "Bring it on!"  Jackson screams, pounding his fists on to his chest before planting his feet solidly. 

     Peter crouches down, eyes alight with awareness as he eyes each of the ball handlers in turn. 

     Allison stands lax, her feet planted rightly to allow her to move swiftly, her body slightly bent forward as if geared to move at the slightest provocation.  Beside her, a blonde haired teen hardens his stance and crouches down in preparation.    

     Danny Mahealani looks about him with wide eyed wonder and worried surprise.  "Uh guys, we're just playing dodge ball."   

     Three bodies jump out of the way as three balls pound Danny's lithe, muscled, body.  He grunts at the sensation and falls to his knees.   

     "What are you doing Mahealni?  This isn't a game.  This.  Is.  War."  Jackson says seriously before pointing the goalie out of the court. 

      Danny moves to stand on the other side of the fence beside Scott, who looks at him with a dopey smile before shrugging.  "Uh... yeah, they take games really seriously." 

      Danny chuckles before shaking his head.  "Well... Jax _does_ hate musicals."

     "Huddle up!"  Jackson calls and the blue team gathers around in a circle to huddle.  The red team look at each other suspiciously, Derek and Brad stepping closer to Stiles.  Stiles stands as still as he can, working on ignoring his proximity to the two guys.

     "What're they saying?"  Stiles hears Lydia asks and Stiles tenses, worried that she would inadvertently reveal the pack's supernatural nature to Brad.

     But Stiles' worry was for naught.  Or at least aimed at the wrong person.  It was Brad who answered Lydia that made the rest of his team look at the android suspiciously.

     "They are saying nothing.  They seem to be communicating through a vague series of gestures that I cannot discern the meaning of."  Brad states clinically.

     "Huh."  Lydia says, tilting her head at Brad with wonder. 

     Movement on the other side of the court shifts the red team's attention.  Peter, Jackson, Isaac, and Allison move closer to the front to stand in a line, evenly spaced apart from each other.  All four of them smirk. 

     Each holding a ball Jackson, Peter, and Isaac raise their hands.

     Lydia steps forward confidently, swaying her hips delicately as she takes several, fierce, steps before swaggering to a stop midway to half-court. 

     "Jackson."  She says sweetly.  "I want you to drop out."

     Jackson laughs harshly, a smug look crossing his face.  He looks around at his team with an astonished face.  "Why the hell would I do that?"

     "Because..."  She says sweetly before whispering something under her breath. 

     Stiles watches as Jackson's eyes grow wide while Erica mutters an astonished, and admiring, "holy shit" beside him. 

    To Stiles surprise, Jackson drops the ball and raises his hands in the air in defeat.  "I'm out." 

     "Dude."  Isaac says with a scandalized look.  "Gross." 

     "Well, well, well."  Peter says with an appreciative smile aimed at Lydia.  "Aren't we adventurous." 

     Allison just looks quizzically at Lydia before moving to pick up the ball that Jackson dropped. 

     Danny was patting a crouching Scott on the back while he dry heaved in the bushes. 

     "What happened?  Are you okay?"  Danny asks confused. 

     "What?  What'd she say?  What's going on?"  Stiles asks confused, turning to look at Erica who just smirks and blushes under her bushy hair. 

     "Stiles, what does..."  Brad begins but was interrupted by a frowning Derek.

     "Brad.  Shut up."  Derek huffs out before looking away. 

     Stiles wasn't sure, but Derek's face looked redder than usual. 

     "Isn't this against the rules?"  Allison asks curiously as she balances a ball in her hands. 

     "All's fair in love and war."  Lydia proclaims daintily before winking and walking back to her team.  "Game on." 

     The three remaining blue team members look at each other before nodding quickly and lining themselves up half-way from the centre line.          

     The balls shoot through the air at astonishing speeds, so fast that Stiles could hardly see them in the air.  All the balls in the air were also all aimed at him. 

     Brad and Derek quickly flitted to Stiles' side and each took hold of one of his hands.  And pulled.  Each one pulling at an opposite direction causing Stiles to just stagger in surprise at where he stood, eyes widening as the three, blurred, balls came closer. 

     A rush of blonde hair blocked the shots with her body, her grunt of pain ringing in Stiles' ears. 

    "Damn it Isaac, you hit my boob!"  Erica screeched.  She turns to focus a glare at each of the boys holding Stiles' hand.  "You two.  Get your act together.  You three totally owe me for this." 

     Derek growls and glares at Brad.  "I had him." 

     "I believe I took hold of him first."  Brad states calmly.  "It would bee more prudent for you to pay better attention to your surroundings." 

    Derek's growl grows louder and takes a step towards Isaac. 

    Stiles moves to lay a hand on the Were's chest to push while he stood between him and Brad. 

     Behind him, Stiles hears an irritated Lydia call out to them.  "Oh, stop it you two.  We need to win and you two better start paying better attention!"

     A soft thunk sounded as a green ball thumping onto the side of her head surprises them all.  Lydia turns slowly, wide eyed with surprise, to stare at the other team. 

     "We weren't ready."  She says through gritted teeth. 

     "All's fair in love and war."  Allison says with an innocent smile and a shrug.  Peter looks at her approvingly, while Isaac had the presence of mind to look abashed.

     Grumbling in frustration, Lydia stomps her wait out of the court to stand on the other side of the fence with a smirking Erica and Boyd.

     "Oh, shut up."  She snarks at them.     

     "Well, it seems there are three left."  Peter announces with a soft smile but with hard eyes.  "The prize is mine." 

     This time, Stiles was quite sure that Peter gave him an intense, lustful look, as he spoke. 

     "We have all the balls."  Derek growls out.

     "I don't mind cutting a few off."  Allison says sweetly.

     Isaac stares at her scandalized.  "Umm..."

     Allison blushes and shrugs her shoulders again.  "Sorry.  I got lost in the moment."      

     "It's on."  Derek growls before bending over to pick up two balls, handing one to Stiles, while Brad picks up the other. 

     Stiles believes that there are moments in life where glory can be achieved by mere mortals, who are then forever enshrined in the annals of history as legends that last throughout the ages. 

     For Stiles, this was one of those moments. 

     Stiles looks at the three fierce warriors standing before him.  A raven haired huntress with bright, critical eyes.  A honey-locked boy with a mischievous smile.  And Fart-Faced Peter.  Who was looking at him intently.  And at one point licked his lips as he crouches down in preparation for the onslaught that was to come. 

     Stiles could hear the rumbling vibrating out of Derek's chest beside him.  He could feel Brad tensing on his other side, his eyes narrowed critically on the opposing team; no doubt calculating the best strategy to win the game.  Stiles tightened his grip on his ball, feeling like the mere mortal going up against Gods and Monsters just as the characters in tales told of times long past. 

     The two parties stood staring at each other, the wind blowing listlessly around them.  From out of nowhere, a lone leaf slowly flittered in the air.  It moved slowly down, the moment stretching into obscene tension-filled seconds before it touched the ground. 

     If Stiles had a soundtrack playing in his head while this all happened, it would be Lux Aeterna.  He did like _Requiem for a Dream_. 

     As the lone green leaf touched the tarmac, balls flew in the air.  All except for Stiles who ducks back as Peter and Isaac catches the two flying balls effortlessly and sends a returning lob at their team.  Stiles throws his high up in the air while Derek and Brad move swiftly to criss-cross on the court to not only grab at the fast moving balls thrown by the two Weres, but to throw it back at them too.  Their movements were inhuman, far too athletic and too controlled to be done by mere mortals.  But no one seemed to care, and only Danny looked at the whole scene with astonished surprise while continuing to move smoothing circles at a still dry-heaving Scott ("Damn it Lydia, gross!" he grumbles before heaving again).

     Allison gracefully leaps into the air with a twist, her hands effortlessly catching Stiles' thrown ball, and just as elegantly lands on the ground with a crouch.  She whips her head up with a leer clear in her eyes before darting forward to aim a throw at Derek.  Derek bends himself back and down at the knees as the ball passes just above his body, while Brad darts forward to catch the ball in the exact moment he swivels back to return the throw at Allison.  But Allison leaps to the side with a cartwheel, the ball passing by harmlessly between her arms. 

      Balls flew in the air, Peter and Isaac moving swiftly and elegantly throughout the court, returning Derek and Brad's efforts lob for lob.  Allison moves like a warrior of the night, her footsteps lithe and fast, barely moving out of the way from the Weres' efforts, but avoiding them nonetheless.  Stiles spends most of his time trying to avoid rebounds.  Around them the ousted members of both teams cheer their team mates on.  Even Danny was lost in the excitement of it all, ignoring the inhuman quality of the game for the moment. 

     But as talented as she was, Allison was no Were, and eventually she made a mistake.  Either through fatigue or simple human error, she was unable to dodge two balls that were aimed her way; one of which smashed into her thigh.  Isaac witnesses the strike and moves to catch the girl in his arms.  As Allison falls into his open arms, a carefully aimed ball by Brad shoots past Peter to hit Isaac on his shoulder. 

     In normal games, three two one would be insurmountable odds.  Odds that should be bigger when facing against an Android and a Were.  But Peter was older and far more experienced, and far more devious than the three men before him (although likely only slightly more devious than Stiles).  Peter weaves through each ball thrown his way, catches what he can after avoiding others and sends each ball he receives directly towards Stiles.  Stiles would be insulted, _if_ he didn't know what the Were was trying to accomplish.  He wished he could say something, but he was just as busy trying to avoid the Zombie Were's efforts and trying to catch his breath.  Meanwhile, Stiles notices, as was Peter's intention, Derek's and Brad's attention splitting every time a ball comes close to Stiles. 

     Then eventually Peter sends three caught, and juggled, balls toward Stiles.  Derek was able to catch one, while Brad another, but one kept on moving towards Stiles.  Stiles could have easily avoided this one, considering he was constantly moving to make himself a more difficult target.  But in this case, it seemed that he was running towards the ball instead.  It would have been fine, him being taken out of the game.  He was only a simple human, and his elimination would take out the distraction that clearly rattled Derek and Brad.  But it seemed the same thought crossed both Derek and Brad's minds as the two of them dart forward to push Stiles out of the way. 

     Stiles doesn't know who got hit first.  None of the wolves or the human spectators know either.  But they knew what happened.  It didn't matter whether Brad or Derek got hit first.  What mattered was that the ball rebounded from the first hit and moved to strike the other person, effectively taking out two people with one hit. 

     The two guys stood dumbfounded at what had happened, and on the other side of the court, Jackson cheered loudly. 

     "And then there was one."  Peter says cheerfully while a dumbfounded Derek moves out of the court, Brad trailing along. 

     If there was one fortunate thing about the whole situation, was that all the balls were in Stiles' court. 

     The other eliminated team members began to taunt Stiles, trying to distract him from what he should do, while Peter just smiles cheerfully at him, clasps his hands, and rocks back on his heels as if he had very little to worry about.  But behind him, his team mates cheered. 

     "You can do this Stiles!"  Erica yelled.  "Kick his ass!" 

     "Don't give up!"  Boyd cheered.

     "I'll let you touch my boob again if you makes sure Jackson loses!"  Lydia screams fiercely (Stiles heard Jackson yell out "What do you mean 'again'?!").

     "Stiles..."  He heard Derek says softly, but seriously, with a deep, steady, voice.  "Look at me."

     He did.  Stiles turns around to look into Derek's clear, green, eyes. 

     "You can do this."  He says, staring at Stiles intently.  "You need to calm down.  You can win this.  I know you can.  Just calm down, breathe, focus."

     "Oh!  Take off all of your clothes!"  Erica offers with bright eyes. 

     All of them turn to look at her evenly. 

     "What?"  She says innocently.  "Like that wouldn't distract you?"

     "Stiles,"  Brad begins.  "There comes a time when one must rise above other people's expectations.  To prove to the world, the universe, that we are more than what we are.  The scene before you is difficult, but know that there are ways of meeting difficulties.  Either you alter the difficulties or you alter yourself to meet them.  We must meet the challenge rather than wish it were not before us.  You may encounter many defeats, but you must not be defeated.  In fact, it may be necessary to encounter the defeats, so you can know who you are, what you can rise from, how you can still come out of it.  It is by going down into the abyss that we recover the treasures of life.  Where you stumble, therein lies your treasure."

     Five pairs of eyes stare at the android, some with awe, others with confusion. 

     It was Lydia who broke the silence. 

     "Did you just take multiple quotes that from different people and put them all in one hoping that they'd be relevant to our current situation?"  Lydia asks with a raised brow. 

     "I've read that motivational speeches can boost confidence and in turn aid in performance."  Brad says, smiling.  "That is also what a Dr. Phil said.  Did it work?"

     Stiles stares at his android, dumbstruck before shrugging.  "Close enough."

     Nodding to himself he picks up a ball before turning to face Peter Hale. 

     "Ready to whack me with your balls?"  Peter says with a smile.

     Stiles ignores the older man and huffs out a breath before tightening his grip on the rubber ball.  He repeats an inspirational mantra in his mind, trying to block out the pounding in his ears, the cheers, and the jeers around him.  The inspirational mantra took the form of Morcheeba's _Rome Wasn't Built in a Day_.  He's bobbing his head and shrugging his shoulders in the tune of the song in his head. 

     "Don't you know Rome wasn't built in a day?"  He sings out as loud as he can before lobbing the ball into the air.     

     The ball arced high, up in the air hiding behind the glare of the noon sun.  All heads turn up, following the path of the ball as it rises up in the air before being engulfed by the bright noon-light. 

     Stiles believed that this was it.  He had done it.  The right thing.  Peter would not be able to see where the ball would land due to the high arc of the ball, and the object being hidden by the light. 

     They could win. 

     Peter catches the ball easily. 

     He lightly throws it back at Stiles.

     It hits Stiles squarely, and softly, on his forehead with a soft thump before bouncing down onto the court. 

     For a moment there was no sound.  Stiles tilts his head in wonder, a dumbfounded look etched on his face. 

     "Oh?"  He asks no one in particular. 

     "Well... that was anticlamactic."  Boyd deadpans.  

     A second later, the blue teams burst into racous cheers and applause.  Jackson shameless weeping, long, streaming tears of joy. 

     "And you _still_ have to do _it_."  He sobs happily on the ground.

     Stiles hears Erica let out a long drawn out wail of a 'no', her eyes wide with scandalized shock. 

     It wasn't until Peter stood in front of him that Stiles came back to himself.

     Peter pokes him on the forehead with a finger before smirks at Stiles.  "You did good." 

     Then the man takes a bow before turning to leave.     

     Stiles rubs the back of his head before turning around and looks shamefully at his team mates.  "Um.... sorry?"

     Boyd shrugs and gives him a soft smile.  "You did good."

     "Whatever."  Erica huffs out but represses a small smile of her own. 

     Lydia looks annoyed at having lost. 

     Brad is beaming at him and is clapping for all he's worth. 

     Derek just looks at him thoughtfully.  Intensely.  So much so that Stiles can't help but look away. 

     The typical jeers and post-win taunts were given by the winning team, and the losing team took them good naturedly.  At certain points, Stiles was surprised to find Derek actually laughing alone whenever something funny was said.  Stiles knew it was a genuine laugh and smile.  He could tell by the soft crinkling of the corner of Derek's eyes. 

     The food that Lydia had prepared was delicious, and the awning and the chairs that she provided was comfortable.  They sat inside comfortably in the shade, eating Lydia's delicious selection of food and talking about the game, their lives, about everything and nothing.  For a moment Stiles was at peace, and all thoughts he had prior to the picnic had been lost.  At that moment, Brad was not an android, nor one asked to do pranks, as much as a human being.  A friend.  One who enjoyed the company of others and laughed and shared stories with those around him.  There was a peace and a genuine spirit in his laughter, in his words, that Stiles had realized had been absent for most of his conversation with him the past few days.  For a long, restful, moment, Stiles revelled in the simplicity of the world around him.  But it was broken by one Peter Hale, who Stiles found to be studying Brad with a curiously critical eye. 

     The buzzing of his phone in his pocket pulled him out of staring at the older man staring at Brad.  Checking the caller ID to find an unfamiliar number, Stiles stands up and walks out of the tent a ways away before answering the phone. 

     "Hello?"  Stiles asks tentatively from underneath a large pine tree atop a hill, overlooking the canopies below him. 

     "Mr.  Stilinski?  It's Veronica Betty.  I'm just calling to check up on the status of your trial period and to arrange for the pick up of the product tomorrow during the most convenient time for you."  The voice in his phone said cheerfully.

     Stiles stiffens at his words, confusion clouding his mind.  "Excuse me?  What're you talking about?"

     It wasn't the confusion that rattled Stiles at what was being explained to him over the phone, as much as it was the pounding ache in his heart at the prospect of losing someone he had come to care for.  Stiles looked down and into the awning, at Brad's laughing face, feeling the ache in his chest nestle deeper into his heart. 

 

***

 

     Lydia Martin wanted to be a simple woman. 

     Not simple as in stupid, mind you. 

     Simple as in she wanted things, physical things or general experiences, that she could qualify and quantify.  So when it came to things like the supernatural, she was quite unhappy.  She handled herself well enough.  She had to.  She held people in her heart that were deeply imbedded in the very world that she despised.  Clearly she had no choice but to muddle in the very mud that those she cared for lived under. 

     Still, things like Werewolves, and Druids, and Banshees were things that Lydia Martin genuinely cared very little for.  She only cared for the people behind those names and titles.  That she could do, even if it wasn't easy.  So people who stood outside of the abnormality of the world she found herself in held a very special place in her heart.  In particular, a boy named Stiles. 

     He was no supernatural creature.

     He was no simple human who's history was based around supernatural creatures, like hunters. 

     He was no threat, for the most part.

     He was no complication, for the most part. 

     He was easily identifiable as the boy who had been in love with her for the longest time.  The boy who cared deeply for his friends; thought of Scott as his brother, and of the pack as his family.  He was a boy that would go through extraordinary measures to make sure that the people he cared for do not drown under the deluge of extraordinary things in their lives. 

     Lydia Martin cared for Stiles because he cared for everyone.  A genuine, simple, affection that so many had so little of. 

     So when this new, young, man entered their lives (rather, Stiles' life), Lydia was more than curious.  She was wary.  Although she never used to be one who expunged new things (and new people), her past experiences had hardened her into a more cautious individual.  It didn't help that Stiles seemed so utterly secretive about Brad.  Especially about Stiles' ridiculous fixation of making sure no one touched Brad. 

     So when Stiles came back into the tent distracted, and looking unusually sad, she took the opportunity to do something that Stiles wasn't in the presence of mind to watch out for.  As Stiles made ridiculous excuses to leave, Lydia stood up to move and take Brad's hands in hers.  Lydia Martin doesn't know why she had the urge to do so.  Why she thought it necessary to delve deeper into Stiles' odd proclamation of Brad not wanting to be touched.  She didn't know why there was a nagging urge within her mind to touch the young man before her. 

     But she wanted to. 

     So she did. 

     When Stiles wasn't looking, she smiled and offered her hand to Brad.  Returning a kind smile of his own, Brad takes Lydia's hand into his own. 

     The moment that Brad let go, moved towards Stiles and the two left the tent, the smile on Lydia Martin's face slips.  She watches as the two of them fade in the distance.  It wasn't until the rumbling of Stiles' car vanished from the air that Lydia realized that others had called her name.  Lydia didn't hear what the others had asked, what they had said.  But she saw them look at her curiously, others looking at her worriedly.  She knew they could feel the uncomfortable distress that began to bubble out of her chest.  Jackson stood up and moved to wrap his arms around her protectively before whispering something harshly.

     Lydia doesn't know what he said.  The pounding in her ears was getting louder, and the odd feeling in her heart weighed heavier.  She turned to look down at her hand; the hand that shook Brad's. 

     It was a dead voice that spoke to the air; at no one in particular.  It was a simple exclamation of truth.  It was delivered like an explanation of common things.  It was with a calm, but deeply hollow voice that Lydia Martin spoke these words: 

     "There's death in his touch."   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story gets more serious from here (I have the bare bones of a darker plot), but I'll try and keep the lighthearted tone of the story as much as I can. 
> 
> Also, this wasn't edited. I just like finished writing it right before I posted it. I have to leave soon for a bit, but I'll come back later to edit this (if I can - or feel like it). But if there are huge glaring mistakes (or things that confuse you), please point it out and I'll get right on fixing it as soon as I can. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking around folks!


	11. Err

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica Betty and sexy times with Scott to feel better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE UPDATE! Okay, so I'm going to slowly update this fic now too. I'm not going to say how often or when. But it'll go up more and more until I finish the Matchmaking story. Then I'll update the Far Above story too. That's the plan. Let's see if I can stick with it. 
> 
> Also, I'm going to start putting up more sexy stuff in this fic so I can finally earn that E rating I put up. So this is going into porn with plot territory from this point on. Be warned. I have no immediate plans just what kinda prawns I'll be serving. But I'm open to start throwing random kinks into this thing along the way. Just weave it into the story. Which is, by the way, still going to be lighthearted and silly despite the "ominous" way I left things off the previous chapter. Believe me, my plan about that whole thing isn't as dark as you guys think. Lol. 
> 
> Anyways, Scott/Stiles porn in this chapter. And resulting chapters will have accelerated story lines compared to what I've done in the past. I'm going to move this along. It's not going to be going one day at a time in Stiles' life anymore.

     It was the "Day After" for Stiles and he expected things to feel different.  The day before yesterday, twenty million dollars wasn't even a speck of a thought.  It was merely a possibility of a thought.  Even then it would likely have been the possibility of having twenty million dollars, not owing it.  The whole thing had gone so well.  It had become an unusually comfortable day with the pack.  Not at all what he had expected when Brad met them.  He had expected something far worse, or at the very least something far more awkward, than what had occurred.  Stiles was beginning to suspect that he might be a closet misanthrope.  It was a perfectly wonderful afternoon that was ruined by one ridiculous amalgamation of two irritating Archie characters.  Veronica Betty.      

     Stiles sighs heavily up at his ceiling, refusing to budge from the comfortable nest he had built for himself in his bed.  Surrounded by more pillows than he could use and a blanket burrito, he was more than willing to spend the rest of the day staring at his ceiling and sighing repeatedly. 

     Brad wasn't around.  The moment they entered the office Veronica had directed him to during the phone call, Brad was taken by three of those ridiculous looking MIBs (Men In Blacks, if you didn't know) from the first day.  Brad refused to come at first, insisting on staying with Stiles, but the men whispered a word that Stiles, for the life of him, could not remember causing Brad to freeze and shut down.  The harpy in gaudy blue arrived shortly after to usher Stiles into an unusually decorated, wall-to-wall carpeted, fuchsia painted, sickly-sweet smelling of an office on the fourth floor of their office tower in Antioch. 

     Stiles spent most of that meeting in shock, his mind stuck in a horrendous loop of reading and re-reading the contract that he had signed hoping every time he did so that something, anything, would change.  Preferably the part where he agreed to owe the company twenty million dollars after three days.  Which should be an impossibility considering he was a minor.

     "The California Family Code 6751 (a) states, 'A contract, otherwise valid, of a type described in Section 6750, entered into during minority, cannot be disaffirmed on that ground either during the minority of the person entering into the contract, or at any time thereafter, if the contract has been approved by the superior court in any county in which the minor resides or is employed or in which any party to the contract has its principal office in this state for the transaction of business.'  We had Superior Court approval two days ago.  Here are the documents for these, and we left you a voicemail regarding the approval as well as a written notice which we sent through over-night mail."  Veronica had said sweetly.

     Stiles had just stared at her dumbfounded, his mind reeling with the information he had just been bombarded with. 

     "Right.  Bullshit.  Sheriff's son, remember?  I tend to know my way around things like laws more than the average maladjusted teenager.  Not to mention I only signed that contract three days ago.  I know how long it usually takes to get things through the Superior Court."  Stiles said suspiciously. 

      "We're a _very_ efficient company Mr. Stilinski."  She smiled.  "Our terms of service were laid out in excruciating detail online when you entered the contest.  Not to mention that contract you signed.  You may be a minor Mr. Stilinski, but this is one contract you will have to fulfill.  Feel free to consult a lawyer of your own, or talk to one of ours.  In fact, feel free to talk to your father.  I'm sure a man of law such as he would be able to properly... grasp... the seriousness of the situation.  But the code I cited does make you the exception to the rule, whether you like it or not.  If you do indeed 'know your way around things like laws' as you say you do, then you know that I'm right.  As shocking as this may seem to you Mr. Stilinski, I know more about the laws of this land than you."

     "I don't have that money!"  Stiles had screamed, his panic finally bubbling over.  He flailed his hands, throwing the contract sheets in the air and pounded Veronica's mahogany desk.  "I'm sixteen!  How the hell would I have twenty million dollars?  In what universe do you think a sixteen year old has twenty million dollars?  How exactly do you expect me to pay you back twenty million dollars?  Why would you think that any sixteen year old would agree to this?  I get an allowance from my dad.  Most of my money comes from a senile grandmother in Florida who sends me fifty dollars every month because she repeatedly thinks it's Christmas!  Which I return!  And then she gives back a month later.  It's like the most horrendous re-gifting loop in the world!  She's also been sending me the same knitted reindeer sweater every month for the past three years!  I don't even think my spleen goes for that much in the black market.  Oh my god, how much do you think my testicles can get me?  'Cause I don't think I can use them anymore.  I'm pretty sure they just retreated back into my body."

     Thankfully Stiles' panicked ramblings was interrupted by the phone ringing.  Stiles then spent most of the time thereafter hyperventilating under Veronica's desk.

     Stiles shuddered when Veronica's head suddenly peered under the desk to sneer at him.  The way the woman moved from smile to sneer so quickly unsettled Stiles greatly. 

     "Well, it seems it's your lucky day Mr. Stilinski.  My superior has reviewed Brad's data and has deemed you eligible for the armed services clause detailed in the contract." 

     Stiles jerked his head in confusion, managing to bump his head sharply on Veronica's desk.  "Err... armed services clause?  Okay, now you're really fucking with me.  In what world did I sign something that enlisted me in the army?"

     "You're not enlisted in the army Mr. Stilinski, but you did sign something that had a clause that stated you could suspend monetary payment through military service instead."  She had said, sounding curiously disappointed. 

     "So, wait, what?  Am I enlisted or not?"  Stiles asked confused.  "Considering how confused I am, I really don't think this is legal."

     "No, I'm not saying you're enlisted.  I'm saying you can suspend monetary payment by serving the military."  She said impatiently. 

     "Serving... the military... like, sex...ually?"  Stiles said uncomfortably.  "Like, like... umm... through sex?"

     Veronica stared at him silently with a single, critically raised eyebrow.  "Seriously?  What?  You think you can give twenty million dollars worth of blowjobs to our servicemen?" 

     "That's... that's a thing?"  Stiles asked, surprised.

     Veronica's eyes widened comically in shock before screeching out an exasperated, "no!"

     "What?"  Stiles screamed, frustrated.  "I'm desperate here!"

     "Clearly."  Pinching the bridge of her nose, Veronica leans back on her swivel chair and sighed tiredly.  "This project was co-funded by the military.  Although Brad himself is only worth twenty million dollars, the project in its entirety is worth substantially more than that.  As in a hundred times more.  Consider yourself a test run for our final product.  What we did _not_ expect was for you to be fully bonded with the android."

     "Fully bonded?"  Stiles asked, confused.

     "Listen Mr. Stilinski.  My superior has just informed me that as it is now, you have enabled Brad to develop in ways that we never anticipated."  She said.

     "Why don't I believe that?  This is all _so surreal_.  I mean god, I can't believe I'm having this conversation.  In this office.  Is it hot in here?  Why is it so _pink_?  Can I have some water?  Maybe a Prozac?"  Stiles said, pulling on his collar.  "I feel like I'm swimming in pepto."    

     "Focus Mr. Stilinski.  No more tangents."  Veronica snapped.  "The primary purpose of this experiment was to study how Brad's model adapted in a civilian population outside of a controlled environment.  These past three days, Brad has been on his own and detached from any influence from our company." 

     "Except for the archive."  Stiles muttered.

     "Excuse me?"  Veronica asked with surprise. 

     "The archive?  Brad says he occasionally connects to the archive to update whatever."  He asked, confusion crossing his face.  "Doesn't he?"

     "Yes.  He does."  She responds curiously.  "But he wasn't supposed to reveal that.  Which brings us back to my point.  It seems Brad's interaction with you enabled us to gain very valuable information." 

     "Us?  Your company, or the military?"

     "What makes you think we're mutually exclusive entities?"  Veronica leans forward and narrowed her eyes at Stiles.  "There was a provision within the contract that allowed us to change its terms at our discretion.  The Armed Services clause gave my superior the wherewithal to do so.  In the simplest of terms Mr. Stilinski, you don't have to pay us a cent if you do _us_ a service." 

     "Do what?"  Stiles asked as dread dropped into his stomach. 

     A sharp tapping on his windowsill pulls Stiles out of his reverie of the past and back into the present.  He pulls his blankets back over his head and muffles a "go away" through the fabric.  The sound of the window being pulled up informed him that his demands were not being met.  A heavy body jumping on top of his has Stiles huffing out and scrambling to push the weight off of him. 

     "Go away Scott"  Stiles grits out through a mouthful of blanket. 

     Scott merely laughs and holds his weight on top of Stiles.  "No, I wanna cuddle." 

     Scott then proceeds to wrap his arms around a handful of Stiles and blankets before hugging the teen like a desperate crab with stiff, human, arms and legs.  Stiles lets out an exhausted sigh as Scott hugs his form tightly and begins to rub his head on the fabric separating him from Stiles' face. 

     "Dude.  You have the softest blanket ever."  Scott hums.  "And it smells so nice."

     "I haven't washed it in a month Scott."  Stiles says evenly.

     "It still smells nice."  Scott replies while continuing his molestation of Stiles' blanket. 

     "I'm telling Allison you're cheating on her with my blanket." 

     "I don't care."  He says contentedly before tightening his arms around Stiles' body.  "This is _so_ comfortable.  Like, so totally comfortable.  Like dude, you're so huggable.  Why don't we do this more often?" 

     "Scott.  Stop rubbing.  It's creeping me out."  Stiles says seriously underneath the blanket while trying to struggle his way out of Scott's binding arms. 

     "It's okay if you get a hard on."  Scott replies through a sigh.

     And that has Stiles spasm-ing himself into a spin out of Scott's arms, bringing both of them crashing into the floor. 

     "Totally not cool to say that while cuddling!"  Stiles huffs out on top of Scott's body before scrambling himself up. 

     "Why?  We've been cuddling since we were like five.  Dude, it wouldn't be the first time I've felt your woody.  Or smell it."  Scott says curiously before grabbing Stiles into another bear hug and pulling him down onto the bed.  "Let's cuddle!"

     "Shut up!"  Stiles laughs while playfully trying to get himself out of Scott's arms. 

     "I knew I could get you to smile!"  Scott laughs as he lets Stiles go. 

     Stiles rolls his eyes while struggling to hide a smile.  "You're a goof."

     "But I'm your goof, right?"  Scott asks, turning over to lie down on Stiles' bed beside him and wide puppy dog eyes boring into his face. 

     Chuckling to himself, Stiles moves onto the spot next to his best friend.  "Yeah.  You're my goof." 

     The two of them laugh as Scott moves himself closer to Stiles' body until they were touching each other comfortably. 

     "You know you can tell me anything, right?"  Scott says suddenly serious, turning to look at Stiles with sad eyes. 

     "Can I?"  Stiles asks curiously, turning to face Scott. 

     "Dude, totally.  Like,"  Scott begins, his face scrunching up as if he struggled to find the right words.  "I know that I've been a bit of a douche, like recently.  But I've got your back.  You're my brother and I'll always come back to you.  So it sucks to hear that you think you can't, because you totally can!  It's all on me if you think that.  I've just kinda been preoccupied with other stuff."

     "Like succumbing to your desire to genetically combine yourself with Allison?  Or nurturing your budding wolfmance with Isaac?"  Stiles says with a tinge of bitterness. 

     "Wolfmance?"  Scott asks curiously.

     "Wolf romance?  Wolf bromance?  Weremance?  Werebros?"  Stiles replies.

     "Bromutts?"  Scott offers helpfully with a wide goofy smile.

     Both laughing heartily, it was Scott who shifts the mood back into a more serious tone. 

     "Like I said, you can tell me anything."  He repeats.

     "Can you?"  Stiles retorts equally as serious. 

     Scott stares at his friend for a moment, his mouth hanging open adorkably.  Stiles resists the urge to move his hand to close his friend's mouth for him and to repress the smile itching to come out of his lips.  Scott always had that silly default expression whenever he was thinking that never failed to make Stiles smile internally.

     A few moments pass by before Scott seemingly had gathered his thoughts enough to come to some sort of conclusion regarding Stiles' question.  "You're right.  It's a two way street.  So here goes..."

     And then Scott proceeds to tell Stiles a lot of things.  Seemingly everything.  In excruciatingly obtuse detail.  When Scott started talking about Were changes that caused him to produce copious amounts of semen and his initial fear of developing a knot like dogs did, Stiles knew the conversation was starting to veer into a territory that he knew Allison would be mortified to hear that Scott was sharing. 

     "Right.  Scott, buddy.  Not that I'm complaining about the sudden flush of information, but you might be over sharing.  A bit.  Just a teensy bit.  Think there's a couple of stuff there that Allison might not be so happy to find out you shared with me?"  Stiles explains, wincing.  "I appreciate the intent dude, but you don't have to do this." 

     "Yes.  I do.  'Cause you're right."  Scott says vehemently.  "We used to share everything with each other."

     "Yeah, back when we had nothing between the both of us."  Stiles explains.  "But now, I get it.  Pandora's box, right?  We're getting older and we know more things than we did before.  So we screw up in more spectacular ways.  I understand that some of these things we know can't particularly be shared with just anyone.  I know, I..." Stiles sighs heavily.  "I know that maybe a part of me resents that a bit.  That there's this thing between us and we're looking at it from different sides, right?  And like even if we try to share with the other person what we see, we like get a totally different overall picture of things.  It's like that elephant analogy thing, you know?"

     "What?  Elephants?"  Scott says, the confusion clear on his face.

     "Yeah, you know, that whole blind men each touching a different part of an elephant thing?  And each of them think that the respective parts that they're touching is what the elephant is overall?  But it's all different even though it's the same?  So like I'm touching a leg and you're touching a trunk and even if it's the same elephant, we experience it as different things.  I know you need somebody who's also touching your trunk."  Stiles rubs his head in frustration as he stumbles through his explanation.  He didn't mean that whole trunk business to sound as dirty as it did.  "You're a werewolf Scott.  I know that there's just some things that I'll never be able to understand because I'm not one.  So I know that there are just some things that you probably will only be able to share with Isaac because he's one too.  I don't like knowing that.  I don't like that that's the case.  But I do understand it.  So I'm not going to hold it against you.  Especially now, after...after what you said."

      Scott says nothing as he listens intently to his friend, his right hand having inched over to grasp Stiles' hand in his.

     "You'll always be family.  We'll always share our lives with each other even if we can't share _all_ of our lives with each other."  Stiles explains. 

     "I want to though.  I really do.  So I'm going to, I promise."  Scott insists.  "And I want you to know that you can too.  With me."

     Stiles laughs bitterly.  "What exactly do I have going in my life to share with you?" 

     "Like that thing with Gerard?  In the basement?"  Scott says quietly, causing Stiles heartbeat to stutter frantically.  "Why didn't you tell me?"

     "You had plenty of things on your plate at that moment.  Wasn't really looking to pile on, you know?"  Stiles explains stiffly. 

     "See, I don't want you thinking that.  And it's not your fault.  I totally know it's mine.  I've been... well, I've been out of it when it comes to you.  But I don't want to be, right?  So you can tell me things.  You don't have to, but I want you to want to."  Scott says hurriedly, tightening his hand on Stiles'.  "Like, stuff about Brad." 

     "What about Brad?"  Stiles asks stiffening with suspicion.              

     "Come on, suddenly there's this guy in your life and all of us didn't know anything about it?"  Scott says.  "I mean, what do _you_ even know about him?  It's weird enough that Lydia didn't know anything about it considering how, you know, he looks."

     "Did you just admit to Brad being hot?"  Stiles says with amusement in his voice.

     "He's tall."  Scott says uncomfortably

     "Yes.  He is."  Stiles responds; amused but confused.  Then his eyes twinkle devilishly before he turns to his friend to ask, "So... this sharing thing... how far are you willing to take it?"

     "What do you mean?"

     "Like, I'm really curious... what it's like."  Stiles begins awkwardly. 

     "Like what?"  Scott leans over, his voice lowering curiously. 

     "To, you know, be in heat."  Stiles says with a wince. 

     Scott just laughs and smacks his friend in the chest with a hand.

     "That's it?"  He laughs.  "Well, it's like you're really, really horny."

     "Oh come on, there's got to be something more to it."  Stiles presses.

     "Okay.  Fine."  Scott says as his chuckling dies down.  "Umm, it's like muddling through a haze.  My brain feels really heavy, and it's like that moment where you feel really sleepy and your head's just this big, numb, mass... and like every time you blink feels a lot longer than the half a second it actually takes.  But the thing is, you're really focused and you're literally being led by your dick.  'Cause you just feel so... hot.  Then you just get this knowledge, that you're so sure of, that if you're just with someone, anyone, you know that this feeling of heat won't be so bad.  That maybe you could spread the burning around, you know?  And when you do it, touching somebody, it feels like water.  This wonderful feeling of water.  Like you've been so thirsty for so long and you just didn't know how bad it was until you start drinking.  And you want to keep on drinking.  So you keep on touching.  And kissing.  And then it's just the body going through the most wonderful motions and then it doesn't feel so hot anymore.  It feels perfect."  Scott finishes breathlessly.

     "Dude, that sounds like being on drugs more than being in heat."  Stiles says sceptically. 

     "Well, I talked to Deaton about it... after I freaked out that first time?"  Scott confesses.  "And it kinda is 'cause my hormones were really out of whack.  Not just normal, human, hormones.  I'm talking about this stupid Were hormone that just smacks you in the 'thinking properly' part of your noggin'."

     Stiles laughs with his friend at his confession.  "Were hormones?  That's a thing?"

     "Really?  You're sceptical about that?  Werewolves existing is fine, but the fact that they got super hormones is hard to swallow?"  Scott asks with some amusement. 

     "Yeah, good point."  Stiles says, abashed.  "It's just hard a bit hard to understand, you know?  Like what I was talking about.  I mean I already get being really horny... but I didn't think there'd be a level beyond what I accomplish."

     "Yeah, 'cause you really are horny a lot."  Scott interrupts with a smirk.

     "But I've never been so horny that I'm practically tweaking, or something."  Stiles muddles on, ignoring his friend's jab.  "So do you?"

     "Do I what?"  Scott asks curiously.

     "You know... knot?"  Stiles asks curiously. 

     "Not what?"  Scott asks, confused. 

     "No, not not.  Knot."  Stiles says, stressing the last word. 

     "I'm confused.  Not not, so I do?  Or not not not, so I don't... not... what?"  Scott asks, now even more confused. 

     "Knot, Scott!  As in with a 'k'.  As in have you ever... knotted."  Stiles stresses, his face blushing even harder at the question.

     "Oh."  Scott mouths, his eyes widening with comprehension.  Then he laughs.  A kind, understanding laugh.  "Yeah, I do.  I gotta tell you, it surprised the hell out of me the first time it happened." 

     "So it does happen?"  Stiles asked more earnestly than he probably should have.  But Scott seemed to be taking his promise to heart; sharing everything he had in his life with him.  Stiles appreciated that.  The huge gotta-know-everything part of Stiles' was quite appreciative of this turn of events as well. 

     "Yep."  Scott says, smacking his lips at the 'p'.  "The first time it happened, I was jacking off and when I was about to cum the base of my dick started to get bigger, thicker.  I started freaking out, but I couldn't stop 'cause I was cumming, right, and I started squeezing it harder 'cause my head though it was a good idea at the time, and..."

     "And?"  Stiles pressed, the curiosity burning in him.  Stiles was, for the moment, trying to ignore his own growing hardness from Scott's story. 

     "And well... I came.  A lot.  Like a lot, a lot."  Stiles says seriously with clear surprise in his eyes at that fact.  "Like more than I ever had before."

     Stiles' stiffness now felt uncomfortable in his pants, especially in the position he was in facing Scott, and he moves his hand to rearrange himself through the fabric of his jeans.  Although Scott's confession was arousing in itself, it was the fact that knotting actually existed that really got Stiles' libido going.  Shortly after he found at Weres were real Stiles went into obsessive research mode and stumbled into a couple of entries about the subject.  It sparked his curiosity enough that he looked more into it.  Then the deeper he got, the more the idea... grew on him.  Especially whenever he pictured a certain he-who-must-not-be-named in particularly compromising, sexually, positions... and he wondered if this certain nameless man could knot as well. 

     Scott's nostril's flare as he scents Stiles' arousal, and Scott just stares at his friend for a moment as Stiles' brows scrunched as if he were thinking of something difficult.

     "Uh, dude."  Scott says slowly.  "You probably should calm down, cause I can smell you getting really horny right now.  And I gotta tell ya, it doesn't take much to get me going."

     "What?  Smelling me getting horny doesn't gross you out?"  Stiles asked with a laugh.

     "No."  Scott says honestly.  "It doesn't.  You don't smell bad.  Like I said, you smell really nice.  And when you get horny, you smell... uh, really good."  Scott admits this last with a deeper, huskier voice. 

     "Yeah?"  Stiles asks as Scott nods.  Looking into Scott's eyes, he could see his pupils dilating and hear his breathe deepening.  "Can..."

     "Can you what?"  Scott presses his friend as he slowly, just an inch or two, moves closer to him in the bed. 

     "Can I... see it?"  Stiles asks quietly, his eyes darting down to his friend's crotch to find a large bulge evident in his pants. 

     "See what Stiles?"  Scott asks with a smile, teasingly. 

     Rolling his eyes, Stiles asks again.  "Can I see your knot... Scott?" 

     Scott was silent for a moment, just looking into his friend's eyes, his breathe slower and deeper.  "Go ahead.  See for yourself." 

     Hesitating only for a moment, Stiles slowly moves his hand's towards Scott's pants, his eyes darting looks between Scott's eyes and his bulge.  Stiles unbuttons Scott's pants, the latter boy moving his hips forward to make the task easier for his friend, and pulls down zipper, revealing Scott's black boxer briefs underneath.  Slowly, Stiles moves his hands towards his friend's bulge, caressing the fabric before grasping it in the palm of his hands.  Scott groans huskily, his eyes never leaving Stiles' face, his hips bucking forward into his friend's warm hand.  Then without preamble, Stiles reaches into the slit of Scott's underwear, takes Scott's girth into his hands, eliciting a groan of pleasure from his friend, and pulls it out into the open. 

     It was difficult for a few seconds seeing as Scott was as hard as a rock and his manhood was quite large, but eventually Stiles manages to fish out Scott's cock out of the pee slit of his boxer briefs along with his hefty balls.  Scott lets out a sigh of relief when his manhood meets open air, and his eyes flash for a moment, a bright yellow, before he speaks to his friend. 

     "You too."  Scott says huskily.  "I want to see you too."

     Nodding his head, Stiles struggles a bit as he fishes out his own, hard, manhood out of his jeans and observes Scott's nostrils flare wider when Stiles' arousal was no longer submerged by fabric.  Stiles moves to grasp his friend's uncut cock in his hands once more, grasping the shaft and pulling the skin down to reveal the bulbous head. 

     "When does it happen?"  Stiles asks wonderingly, his eyes still fixated on his friend's dick in his hands.  Stiles plays with the pressure, alternating between grasping it tightly in his hands, jacking it slowly, before easing up to just caress the stiff member. 

     "When I'm about to cum."  Scott explains as he reaches forward to grasp Stiles' dick in his own, eliciting a maddeningly sweet groan from his friend's lips.  "You have to make me cum.  Then it's going to grow.  Don't be afraid to tighten your grip, especially on the bulge.  It feels so fucking good when I do it."  

     Stiles wasn't quite sure how these particular circumstances came about, but he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.  He was with his closest friend on his bed, grasping his cock while Scott grasped his.  It was a level of trust that he appreciated and, in all honesty, it was something that Stiles needed considering the sexual frustration that had been bubbling up in him recently. 

     There on his bed, lying side by side, Stiles jack's his friend's cock with his fists, tightly, in an even rhythm as Scott does the same with his.  Stiles relished on the feeling of Scott's velvety skin, his fingers unable to completely grasp around his friend's hefty manhood.  He wondered at the size of it, the tip of Scott's cock almost reaching his navel.  Stiles could see that his own cock was about the same size as Scott's, if not a bit thinner than his friends.  But the skin of Scott's dick was darker than his own, his pubes a dark black compared to Stiles' lighter brown. 

     Stiles lets out a groan as his friend tightens his grip on his cock and Stiles returns the favour just as well, eliciting an equally satisfying groan from Scott.  An enormous amount of precum started to leak out of Scott's head, acting as lube as Stiles continues to jack his friend. 

     "Fuck, Stiles.  You leak so much.  I didn't realize."  Scott says wonderingly as Stiles' own precum coats his friend's hands. 

     "You're one to talk."  Stiles responds huskily. 

     Breathing hard, their foreheads now touching, their fists pumping each other's cocks, Scott starts to buck his hips into Stiles' hands eagerly, a growl vibrating out of his chest.  Then Stiles could feel it, a bulge growing at the base of Scott's cock.  Stiles moves to grasp it in his hands and squeezes hard, causing Scott to moan out loud and plead for more.  Stiles was more than happy to comply. 

     "Stiles, I'm gonna cum."  Scott says, his eyes closed tight, his hips bucking forward eagerly into Stiles' hands. 

     Stiles could feel himself edging closer to a climax as well as Scott's own fist clamps down tighter on his cock, jacking it faster to match Stiles' pace. 

     Scott was the first to cum as Stiles continued to grip his knot harder and harder.  Stiles came a second later, spilling his seed between them.  But his own ejaculation was nothing compared to Scott's.  Thick ropes of white shot out of Scott's cock, hitting Stiles' chest, cheek, and chin.  But it didn't stop.  Curious, Stiles angles his head down to catch some of Scott's thick cum in his own mouth. 

     "Fuck, Stiles."  Scott says with awe as he watches his friend capture some of the ropes of cum in his mouth. 

     It took a few more seconds before the sharp, fast, streams of cum stopped and there was only a steady stream leaking out of Scott's cock head.  Stiles lets the thick amount of cum linger on his tongue before he moves to swallow and was surprised to hear a husky growl from his friend who had watched him the entire time.  Scott moves forward to capture Stiles in a kiss, his tongues darting in, eagerly searching, into Stiles' mouth. 

     "You have no idea how fucking hot it was to watch you do that, Stiles."  Scott says huskily before moving to scoop up some of Stiles' own ejaculate into his mouth. 

     "Oh, I have an idea."  Stiles says with a smile, finding the act of Scott licking his fingers of his cum to be maddeningly hot.  Stiles then moves to watch the continued steady stream of cum still coming out of Scott's cock.  "When does it stop?"

     Scott ducks his head and smiles awkwardly at his friend.  "Yeah, um.  We probably should have taken all our clothes off for this, cause this lasts a while.  I told you I cum a lot.  It's another Were thing.  It's supposed to make sure I knock somebody up.  It'll be about another ten minutes or so, I think, before it stops."

     Stiles nods slowly, agreeing with his friend about the point with the clothes.  The sheet between them was covered in their jizz too.  Stiles was going to be doing a lot of laundry this evening.  Then to Scott's surprise, Stiles moves down towards his crotch, his mouth opening up to capture Scott's still hard, pulsing, cock into his mouth. 

      Scott's eyes widen with surprise as Stiles makes his way down.  "Dude, you don't have to do that." 

      Stiles just smiles up at his friend and shrugs his shoulders.  "Less stains on my sheets.  'Sides, I gotta say.  You don't taste half bad."  He says before engulfing his friend into his mouth, Scott moaning out loud at the act. 

      Stiles nurses on Scott's cock for a good ten minutes, swallowing every drop of cum that leaks out of his friend's cock, all the while Scott caresses his friend's head with his hands.  It took a few moments for Stiles to realize that Scott's cock was the very first penis he's ever had in his mouth.  This fact amused him as he tries to take in more of his friend's abundant manhood into his mouth, the slow, streams, of cum moving down his throat.  Stiles had the urge to try and fit the knot into his mouth, but considering he could only take about half of Scott's cock into his mouth without gagging, he abandoned that idea. 

      As Stiles nurses on his friend's cock, he started to think about certain things.  Like the surprising relief he felt at the idea of his first, actual, sexual experience with another sentient being was with his best friend.  That he found that he liked the taste of another guy's cum as much as he liked his own ('cause yes, of course he's tried his own).  He wasn't sure if there was some sort of general standard taste for men's semen, but Stiles found it comforting that his first foray into this particular experiment was with someone he could trust and who trusted him in turn.  Stiles liked the contradiction of the soft, velvety, feeling of Scott's cock in his mouth as well as the hardness of it filling him.  What he found particularly surprising was how much he liked the musk of Scott's crotch, of the warm, heady smell from his cock and balls.  When he finally felt Scott's cock soften in his mouth, he moves back up to look at his friend. 

      "Right, that was totally not what I came here to do."  Scott says, chuckling.

      "Do you regret it?"  Stiles asks, afraid of the answer.

      Scott smiles wildly at his friend before giving him a quick peck on the lips.  "Hell no!" 

      Stiles felt enormous relief at his friend's words and just relished in the ease and comfort of the moment.

      Then Scott quickly moves down, moving Stiles on his back. 

      "Scott, what?"  Stiles asks curiously as Scott moves down near his crotch. 

      "It's my turn.  You seriously smell so fucking good man.  I've been waiting for you to finish sucking on my cock, which you do great by the way, so I can do this." 

      Stiles watches with a bemused expression as Scott moves down to lick and lap at Stiles' soft, cum covered crotch.  The feeling of Scott's warm, wet, coarse tongue on his balls and dick felt wonderful, and Stiles alternated between giggling at the ticklish sensation and moaning at the wonderful feeling of it. 

      "Scott, if you keep on doing that, I'm going to get hard again."  Stiles manages to get out as his friend moves to pull Stiles' boxers down to access his taint and nuzzle his face under Stiles' cock and balls, before surprisingly starting to lick at his hole.  "And it's really uncomfortable having my boxers and pants around my knees."

      "Uh, right."  Scott notes awkwardly as he pulls back from shoving his face into Stiles' ass.  "Sorry.  You just... smelled so good." 

     They looked at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter.          

     Scott helped in the cleanup process, earning him significant friendship points for the act.  Stiles was amused when Scott grudgingly agreed to wash their sheets and clothes right away. 

     "I kinda, really, like the smell.  But fine."  Scott says, pouting, before taking one last whiff of their soiled garments.  Stiles just shakes his head fondly at this particular werewolf kink. 

     "Big scent kink then?  Werewolf thing, or Scott thing?"  Stiles asks. 

     "Werewolf thing.  Which turned into Scott thing."  Scott mumbles through a face-full semen covered fabric. 

     Considering what they had just done together, Stiles wasn't opposed to bathing with Scott at the same time.  Of course they spent more time goofing off in the water than actually getting clean.  But Stiles revelled in the ease of the time the were spending together away from the stress of the past week.  The conversations thereafter were light and jovial, of TV shows and movies, comic books, and other things that took them happily out of their supernatural world for the night.    

     Then that evening, dressed in the matching pair of old cowboy pyjamas Scott had kept in his dresser for sleepovers since they were kids, the two of them slept peacefully in Stiles' bed.

     Stiles was happily the small spoon.     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted Stiles' first man-secksy-times to be with his best friend. Someone he's known and trusted for a long while, you know? And I thought it'd be a nice bonding experience. 
> 
> Okay, so like I didn't have an outline for this story until recently. So if there are glaring differences in this universe's canon I've created, kindly point it out? Pretty please? I might have missed something significant in the process of writing, but I'll try to be very good about it from now on. I promise! But yeah. Lots of sexy times ahead. I'm thinking up pairings and how I can fit 'em in into the story logically. 'Cause you know, I don't want to just - BAM! STILES/JACKSON anal sexy times in an abandoned quarry with a basket of vegetables. 
> 
> Also, researching California Family Codes was a bit of a loooooong, boring, slog. I'm sure I've used those codes in the worst possible way, and I'm of the thought that even though Stiles is the sheriff's son, he's not an expert on all of the legal codes of the land. 'Cause you know, he's still a teenager who has other things on his mind that slogging through all of California's family laws. He'll probably research it after when he gets home to see if everything's legit though.


	12. Heh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brad arrives at the school. The pack tries to talk to Stiles. Well, Lydia tries to... everyone else babbles for the most part.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'd like to take this chance to thank all of you for reading. Thank you very much. You guys are great.

     Lydia's face was contorted in a disapproving frown.  "I don't think you quite grasp the gravity of the situation." 

     "Oh, I grasp it quite fine.  I just want to remain blissfully ignorant."  Stiles says with a bit of a flail. 

      It was a lovely morning and Stiles had just arrived at the school when Lydia had ambushed him about something of 'grave importance'.  She made it sound so ominous that, quite frankly, Stiles wanted nothing to do with it.  He wasn't in the mood.  After the simple, fun, day he spent with Scott, everything went downhill.  Derek visited, as he usually does, by breaking into Stiles' window in the middle of the night and glowering at him while he slept before waking Stiles up with his patented sourwolf face.  Derek actually woke him up with a scowl.  Those eyebrows are ridiculous.  Ridiculously powerful.  Alarm clock eyebrows.  Glower power.  The left one shifts up?  Boom!  There goes Belgium.  The guy was frustrating beyond belief, and quite frankly Stiles doesn't even want to think back about what happened after Derek woke him up.  So denial it is. 

      Lydia raises her eyebrow in a manner that reminds Stiles of the very event that he's trying to repress.  "Didn't Scott talk to you?"

      Stiles stills at her words and turns to look at her sharply.  "Why, what did he say?"

      Stiles doesn't quite know what the proper protocol was after jacking off with your best friend.  Well, jacking off with your best friend and then giving him a blow job.  There's protocol there, he was sure.  Some sort of post-coital standard that he's supposed to follow.  But where did it stand with the bro code?

      _Thou shalt not blow bro and let the world know_.

     Or.

      _Thou shalt not relate sexual encounters with bros to non bros_. 

     "Do you count as a bro?"  Stiles asks out loud. 

      Sure, it had all seemed right at the time, but now Stiles was riddled with pestering guilt.  Namely, guilt about going down on Allison's boyfriend.  Then again, Stiles had Scott first.  They had precedence.  Bros before Hoes.  Not that Allison was a hoe.  Far from it.  It's actually quite rude that he thought that.  Now he has something entirely different to feel guilty about. 

     "Allison is _not_ a hoe!"  Stiles says sharply, finger pointed for emphasis.    

     "What?"  Lydia's disapproving frown melted to give way to a frustrated one.  She snaps her fingers at Stiles' wondering face several times, an attempt to control is attention.  "Stiles, pay attention.  Did Scott talk to you about Brad or not?" 

     Stiles thought back to the conversation he had with his friend and draws a relative blank.  "Not really?  What about?"

     "He didn't say anything at all?"  Lydia's shoulders sag a bit and she just shakes her head, seemingly exasperated.  "Seriously?  I thought he spent the night?  What'd you guys do all night?"

     "Nothing!"  Stiles says quickly, earning a curious look from Lydia.  "Don't give me that look.  Nothing happened.  Nada.  Zip.  Zilch.  Although I suppose that means that something _did_ happen, just that that something is nothing.  But nothing isn't really something or it could be something depending on your perspective.  I'm personally a half glass full kind of guy, so I'd go with nothing being something.  So something definitely happened."

     "Something _did_ happen?"  Lydia asks, confused. 

     "What?  No, I said nothing happened."  Stiles proclaims, flailing his hands in the air.

     "You just said that nothing was something." 

     "I say a lot of things."  Stiles huffs out before walking away.  Of course, it's not that easy.  Lydia keeps pace easily and studies him with this really curious look that's making Stiles a wee bit uncomfortable.  He probably should talk to Allison before he cracks. 

      The hallways were filling up with students now, some of whom were throwing curious looks at Stiles as he passed by.  It's something he would definitely have noticed if it weren't for Lydia continuing to pester him about Brad. 

     "We need to talk about him."  Lydia presses as she kept pace to a speed walking Stiles. 

     "What's there to talk about?"  Stiles asks nonchalantly. 

     "Where'd you meet him?"  Lydia counters. 

     Stiles sighs wearily.  Considering the sheer amount of ridiculous fuckery that the random week had offered, he couldn't for the life of him remember if he had already come up with a story about that question.  He had written a number of scenarios about Brad's supposed origin story when he first arrived on his doorstep, but they were all written in a journal he keeps under his bed.  And right now, the only scenario he could think of was something about Brad being an exiled, and emancipated, hipster, Amish model from Wyoming.  It's plausible right? 

      Stiles was having a hard time trying to keep his mind on one particular subject at the moment.  Budding guilt building up in his mind about Scott rushed through his mind, alongside the problematic situation regarding Brad's contract, the fact that it was also a military contract was disconcerting, Brad himself, the upcoming midterms, female circumcision, that stupid prickly Alpha-Cactus-Eyebrows of doom who... not going there, and now Greenberg's stupid attempt to impress the fairer sex with an acoustic guitar and a selection of 90s songs.  The current song of choice?  Right Said Fred's 'I'm Too Sexy'.  Stiles didn't expect that there would be an acoustic version of that song. 

     Stiles glanced at Lydia who was still waiting patiently (impatiently) for a response, and was about to respond when the sudden gasps from several students momentarily drew their attention. 

      _I'm too sexy for my love, too sexy for my love, love's going to leave me._   Greenberg started to sing. 

      Stiles and Lydia were curiously surprised to find a good number of the student body in the hallway smiling wildly (mostly the girls with a handful of the guys as well), snickering behind their hands, or just with their mouths hanging open in awe.  Following their line of sight (the front doors of the school), Stiles' heart skips at what he sees; the object of the student body's curiosity. 

      _I'm too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt, so sexy it hurts._

      It was Brad.  Dressed in a tight white Henley under a very sexy dark brown leather jacket with white piping at the elbows and shoulders.  Brad looked magnificent.  Too much?  He looked hot.  Hot and slow.  Was he moving in slow motion?  Or was Stiles' brain broken? 

      To say that he was surprised to see Brad was an understatement.  He hadn't seen him since he was taken away by the men in black while they were in Antioch.  When he had inquired as to why Brad was taken, Veronica had just explained that considering that Brad was the very first field testing prototype, his hardware needed to be checked out.  When Stiles had asked where Brad was when he was told to leave, Veronica brushed him off by briefly saying that the android would be dropped off after its maintenance.  Stiles wasn't very happy about that, but he didn't particularly have any choice in the matter.      

      Stiles isn't still quite sure if Brad moving in dramatic, wind swept, spotlighted, slow motion was due to his own imagination, or if the drama club had been told ahead of time of Brad's arrival.  If it was the latter, then they certainly did a good job. 

      Relief flooded him at the sight of the android.  He hadn't realized that not only did he miss the android, but he was also a bit afraid of what Veronica might have done to him.  But not only did he appear to be doing well, he also looked just as good as he had done when they first met.  Granted, he looked much better outside of spandex and Stiles' plaid shirts. 

      Stiles stepped forward and raised a hand in greeting, but Lydia reaches forward to stop him to Stiles' surprise.  He was looking at her curiously when another hand pulls him forward before tilting him down and kissing him passionately on the lips. 

      In the middle of the hallway. 

      Half bent down once more like that damn movie.  Didn't he tell Brad something about this already?

      Aaaand that's a tongue. 

      _So sexy it hurts._

      "Shut up Greenberg."  Lydia snaps, pulling Stiles out of his hormonal reverie to start struggling to get himself upright while Brad continued to search Stiles' mouth for cavities.    

      "I missed you Stiles."  Brad said with a crooked smile and a gentle brush at Stiles' cheeks. 

      A couple of people wolf-whistled, and a lot of people were giggling or laughing. 

      Stiles wishes he wasn't so pale that his blushing would be as obvious as it probably was. 

      Thankfully Greenberg had stopped singing.  Clearly too afraid to piss off Lydia. 

     "What are you doing here?"  Was Stiles' greeting.  Not particularly friendly, and not quite the question that he had intended to ask, but he was just a wee bit flustered from the kiss. 

     "I am now a student at this school."  Brad proclaims with a wide smile as he reaches forward to pull Stiles closer to his body. 

     Stiles attempts to lean back and away, growing uncomfortable with the sudden public display of affection.  The students milling about in the hallway seemed to be watching them like a damn TV show.  Damn it to hell, he was no Kim Kardashian.  Uh uh.

     "You're a student here now?"  Lydia asks with surprise in her voice and an enigmatic look on her face.  "Where were you a student before?" 

     The question seemed to have pulled Brad's attention enough that Stiles, thankfully, was able to unwind himself from the Android's arms.  Taking a tentative step back, Stiles takes a moment to take deep, even, breaths to get his heart rate to calm down.   

     "My academic transcripts have been given to the administration."  Brad responds abstractly.  "I'm looking forward to spending more time with Stiles."         

     Brad had taken another step forward to, seemingly, reclaim Stiles in his arms when the warning bell rang.  Stiles quickly grabs Brad's hands and starts walking towards the admin office, waving Lydia away with a quick salute. 

     "Uh, I'll cya at lunch Lyds.  I'm just gonna take Brad to the office."  He says quickly, dragging the android along lightly while Lydia stared after them balefully.  

     Pulling Brad into an empty classroom, Stiles checks around quickly to make sure they were alone before closing the door behind him.  He had some questions that needed to be asked. 

     "I'm sorry about the kiss earlier Stiles.  I should have asked for permission, but I missed you."  Brad said with a sweet smile, making Stiles blush. 

     "Uh.  Yeah, me too buddy.  Hey, what happened?  The MIBs kinda just dragged you off and they wouldn't tell me where you were."   

     "Maintenance, Stiles."  Was Brad's response. 

     "What does that involve exactly?"  Stiles asks curiously.  But before they could answer, a harried teacher with a tight braid spotted them in the empty classroom and sent Stiles off to his class.  She had volunteered to take Brad to Administration herself with a flustered smile and a fan of her hands.  Stiles didn't pay attention to the sudden up swell of jealousy he suddenly felt.  He wasn't about to acknowledge that he suddenly grew jealous because of one of the school's teachers.  Thankfully sneaking into homeroom was a breeze, mainly because Finstock was too busy yelling at his 3DS. 

     Scott greeted him with a wide smile and an enthusiastic wave, doing that ridiculous crooked smile with his adorable crooked jaw and his puppy dog eyes that he does.  Affection fills him at the sight of his friend, followed quickly by tremendous guilt the moment he catches sight of Allison waving him down just as eagerly.  Apparently Scott was far too obtuse to notice the sudden shift in his mood and merely enthusiastically patted down the seat next to him.  Stiles smiles at them both awkwardly, likely showing more teeth than necessary.  He trips at a kid's bag right before he makes it to the seat, but quickly flails back up and makes out like nothing happened.  Or that the giggles and the laughing going around wasn't at his expense. 

     Finstock still wasn't paying attention.  Apparently his Slurpuff just got owned by a Mawile.     

     "Hi Stiles."  Scott said eagerly, slipping an arm around his shoulders.  Stiles smiled back awkwardly and tried to raise his hand for a wave but ended up slamming it against the underside of his desk. 

     He cusses just as Allison looks at him worriedly.  "You okay?" 

     "Fine, just fine."  Stiles says through gritted teeth, shaking his throbbing hand in the air.  Scott was still doing that goofy smile thing at Stiles. 

     Stiles didn't really know what to do at the moment.  He had half a mind to confess what he and Scott did to Allison then and there and beg for her forgiveness.  He was pretty sure that real romantic relationships superseded bromutts bonding.  Particularly if said bonding was sexual in nature.  At the very least, he could talk to Scott about coming clean about their dirty deed. 

     "Hey, wanna knock one out at the boiler room during break?"  Scott whispers into his ear, causing Stiles to fall out of his chair. 

     "Bilinski, what the hell are you doing?"  Coach yelled after being pulled from his game by the class' laughter. 

     Any response he might have had about the subject was lost when the teacher with the tight braid walked into class with a smiling Brad in tow. 

      The moment Brad stepped into the room, Stiles hears Scott growling under his breath beside him.  He elbows his friend at the same time Allison must've as the teen suddenly startles back, stopping the sound from vibrating out of his throat.  Scott shifts in his seat uncomfortably, his eyes still trained on Brad and settles on glowering at him instead. 

       "What the hell is wrong with you?"  Stiles asks curiously and notices for the first time that Allison was frowning at Brad too. 

       "Right, you bunch o' jam busters.  Listen up."  Coach Finstock snaps, one hand on his hip and the other pointing menacingly at the class at large.  "We got a new student, so you bunch o' donuts better make him feel welcome.  Greenberg, I said make him feel welcome!" 

      At the front row, Greenberg snaps to attention and salutes Coach Finstock, of all things to do. 

       "Class, it's my absolute pleasure ( _Seriously_?  Stiles thinks.) to introduce to you, this very handsome young man.  His name's Brad Tipp.  I'm sure you'll all make him feel _very_ welcome."  She said, obviously atwitter from having been in Brad's company.  Stiles wouldn't be surprised if fat cartoon hearts started bubbling out of her head, she was so smitten. 

        And Brad Tipp?  _Really, Veronica_?

       "Brad Tipp?"  Stiles hears Allison asks with amusement in her voice.  She wasn't glowering anymore and was seemingly fighting off a smile that was threatening to slip out of her lips instead. 

     "It's a stupid name.  I don't like it."  Scott mutters sullenly beside him. 

     Brad waved earnestly when he caught sight of Stiles causing Scott to stiffen beside him.  Scott narrows his eyes and suddenly shifts to huddle himself closer to Stiles, throwing an arm around the young man's shoulders and squeezing him tighter against his body. 

     Stiles merely stares at his friend with a mixture of disbelief and barely constrained amusement. 

     "Sit over there, next to Bilinski."  Coach Finstock said in his usual excessively loud voice.  Scott's grip on Stiles' shoulders tighten and the noises that emanated from his chest returned.  Once again, as if they thought as one, both Allison and Stiles kicks Scott under the table. 

     All eyes followed Brad as he walked down the aisle towards the empty seat next to Stiles.  Stiles was pretty sure that Scott would have eased up more if Brad didn't look so damn eager.  Stiles had never had anyone look at him like he was a Christmas present before.  Like he was precious and something to unwrap. 

     Stiles squeezes Scott's leg as a way to tell him to calm down before detaching himself from his friend's clutches.  The dude whined.  An actual, adorable, whine.  Made this cute little high pitched noise from the back of his throat.  It was also loud enough that people close by turned to look at him curiously. 

     In for the goose, in for the gander. 

     "Sorry, I farted."  Stiles says abashedly, with a flail of the hands to make sure that people turn their attention to him, instead of Scott.  "That was a weird one huh?  Maybe I have a distended anus?"      

     Everyone who had looked groaned and tried to move as far away from their table as possible.  So that was a plus.  And Allison's face had shifted into this relieved, and grateful, expression trained solely on Stiles.  Which quickly soured the moment Brad had made it to Stiles' side and greeted him by reaching to hold one of his hands.  Stiles was sure that Scott, whatever the fuck was wrong with him, wouldn't be all too happy about that.  So he quickly grabbed the first thing he could and handed it to Brad. 

     Thankfully it was something that was actually useful, and makes sense in context, and would just seem like an attempt to help out the new guy versus trying to appease his emotionally peculiar friend.

     "You got a notebook?  You don't?  Well, you can have mine for the low, low, price of tolerating my presence."  Stiles jokes.  "There's even a payment plan.  Scott got my pudding cup when we were kids and he's now more than halfway through his twenty year payment plan.  It's very cost effective."

     "Oh, I more than tolerate your presence Stiles."  Brad says while tilting his head curiously, as if astonished that anyone couldn't ever do the same.  "I yearn for it." 

     Stiles startles at the fact that suddenly half of the class, and a couple of the guys, actually ' _awwwwed_ ' at what Brad said.  Even the tight braided teacher was suddenly a lot closer to their desk, which was at the far end of the room, than she really needed to be.  Catching Stiles eyes and suddenly realizing what she had been doing, she makes a scene of brushing her clothes and reprimanding the nearest student for the most obscure reason, and giving him a detention for it, before marching away.  The rest of the people who were still observing _everything_ that Brad was doing were still staring.  And sighing.  And shooting ridiculous goo goo eyes at him. 

     "Back off ya vultures!"  Stiles snaps just at the same time Coach Finstock cusses out loud for being unable to catch a Houndoom. 

     Which reminded Stiles of the pissy werewolf sitting next to him.  But he was surprised to find that Scott, and Allison, had schooled their expression to something akin to... er... uh... pseudo-happy-psycho-clown-I'm-gonna-eat-your-liver-with-some-fava-beans-and-some-nice-chianti sort of smile?       

     Stiles does the Hannibal Lectre tongue thing at their friends to clue them in on their expression.  Allison gets it and lets out the huff of suddenly repressed laughter.   Scott just looked confused.  Which was better than the expression he was holding before, so he'll take it. 

     To say that the rest of homeroom was a comfortable experience would be an overstatement.  All four parties seemed intent on sitting there silently and as awkwardly as possible.  Well, maybe except for Brad.  Stiles thinks that Brad may have been genuinely behaving as well as he possibly could.  But Scott and Allison were obviously tense, which in turn caused Stiles to tense up.  He was just about to do something desperately random to break the tension when Brad reached over and held his hand.  Turning to look at the android, Stiles finds Brad smiling softly at him. 

     "Everything alright?"  Brad asks quietly. 

     "Everything's fine."  Scott huffs out before Stiles could say anything in return.  Then the guy moves over to clutch at Stiles' other hand.  Stiles sees that familiar look in his face.  The one that Derek had when he started to play tug-o-war with Brad using his body during dodge ball. 

     Stiles sighs heavily and was thankful when the bell for the first class of the day sounded.  A quick look at Brad's schedule tells him that they only share three classes together, and only one of which was today.  He offers to walk Brad to his next class when Scott starts to pull him away to his surprise. 

     "He has a map.  He'll deal.  We'll be late."  Scott bites out before dragging Stiles out of the room.  Stiles has just enough time to call out a lunch meeting at Brad before they turned the corner.    

     And Greenberg was singing in the hallway again.

     _You and me baby ain't nothin' but mammals, so let's do it like they do it on the discovery channel_. 

     What's your problem?"  Stiles yells once they reached the empty classroom that Scott and Allison had dragged him into.  He wasn't surprised that that was the case.  They'd been looking like they wanted to scream something out in his face the moment Brad arrived in homeroom. 

     "We don't think you should be hanging out with him anymore."  Allison explains quickly.  So apparently she was the pull-the-band-aid off quickly and neatly sort of girl.  "We're... concerned about him." 

     "You weren't that concerned when you met him before.  I thought you liked him."  Stiles points out. 

     _Love, the kind you clean up with a mop and bucket_... suddenly drifts into the air. 

     "The situation's changed, Stiles."  Lydia explains behind him.  Turning around, Stiles sees Lydia, Isaac, Erica, Boyd, and Jackson sneaking into the room before closing the door shut, cutting off Greenberg's singing once more. 

     "Seriously?  Guys, we have class in like four minutes."  Stiles says, exasperated.  "We don't have time for ganging up on little 'ol me for some abstract reason.  And why the hell is Greenberg singing an acoustic version of The Bad Touch?" 

     "It's not abstract.  We don't want you hanging out with him anymore."  Isaac says simply.  "Also, Greenberg's trying to impress some cheerleaders."    

     "Okay, whatever.  And what do you mean you don't want me hanging out with him anymore?  You guys were just fine with him during the picnic!  Isaac, you fed him mini quiche while Erica kept on subtly-not-so-subtly flashing him a bit of cleavage.  What could possibly have changed in such a short length of time?" 

     Lydia opens her mouth to say something but was stopped by a growling Scott. 

     "He's not good for you."  Scott says through gritted teeth.  "You're not hanging out with him anymore." 

     _Oh no, he didn't_.  Is what Stiles thought.  He was about to bitch at his friend, diva finger pointing and all, when Lydia does it for him. 

     "God Scott, you're totally pulling a Derek right now."  She snaps.  "Stop it." 

     "I am not!"  Scott says, highly offended. 

     "Uh, yeah.  You are.  You're totally pulling a  Derek.  Suddenly all territorial and demanding without actually explaining the situation and just expecting Stiles to do as he's told."  Erica points out as Stiles wonders when Derek's name started being used in that manner.  "Cause that's always worked out in the past." 

     "Since when has Derek's name been a descriptor?"  Stiles asks to no one in particular. 

     "He's angry because Brad was in homeroom and kept touching Stiles.  He didn't like that very much."  Allison explained soothingly, running a hand up and down Scott's back.  Isaac makes a noise and walks over to nuzzle his face in Scott's neck. 

     And _whoa_ , what?  Stiles startles as he watches his friend nonchalantly returns Isaac's affection.  In front of Allison, who was looking at both of them dreamily. 

     Thankfully Jackson's assholery (Stiles' new word of the day, defining one's expertise in the ways of the rectum) pulls him out of his surprise. 

     "I say we just kick his ass.  He'll stay away after I'm through with him."  Jackson says impatiently while leaning against the whiteboard. 

     "It shouldn't come to that.  Especially when we don't know what he's really capable of."  Boyd pipes in. 

     "Whatever.  But I'd want a turn."  Erica offers menacingly, or erotically (Stiles is not quite sure - could be both), while lengthening her nails purposely.

     "Whoa, wait, what?  What're we talking about now?"  Stiles asks, startled at the subject of the conversation. 

     "Do it from a distance?  Stalk him, study his movements, and if need be take him out in the dark?"  Allison suggests calmly, now wedging herself between Isaac and Scott, both of whom easily take her into their arms. 

     Calmer, but still clearly angry, Scott offers his take on the situation.  "Maybe... maybe we should give him a chance to explain.  Talk it out with him.  Yeah, sure.  He seems... off... but sometimes I think, the way he looks at Stiles, that maybe he might not be a bad guy."

     Allison gives him a look that makes Scott blush before the guys speaks again.  "Yeah, fine.  After I want to rip him to pieces.  But I still say we talk it out." 

     "We need to talk to Derek about this."  Isaac pipes in from Scott's neck. 

     "You know that Stiles has no clue what we're talking about, right?"  Lydia says, massaging her temples with her eyes closed.

     "Let's just kick his ass!"  Jackson yells.

     "You're tearing me apart!  She says one thing, you say another, and then it all comes back again!"  Stiles cries out as emotionally 1950s cinema as he can, reaching out with his hands, grasping at empty air, his face contorted in teenage angst and agony.    

     Erica rolls her eyes in response.  "Yeah, oookay Rebel Without a Clue, calm down." 

     "Heh."  Stiles chuckles with a smirk.  "So you get James Dean but not Honey Boo Boo?  I forgive you." 

     "Stiles..."  Lydia began but was interrupted by Jackson's sudden hand on her shoulder right before the classroom door opens to show the very same tight braided teacher from before looking into the classroom. 

     "Get to class!"  She snaps, causing everyone to scramble out of the door.  "Now!"

     Lydia levels Stiles a look.  "I'll explain later.  Just... stay away from him, please?" 

     The tenderness surprises Stiles and warms his heart. 

     "If you don't, I'm showing the pa... everyone, all the love songs you wrote to me every Valentine's Day since we were eight."  She says sweetly. 

     The threat in her voice doesn't and freezes his bones. 

     "What the hell is wrong with you people?"  Stiles cries out before the teacher snaps at him, driving him out of the classroom. 

     Stiles spends the rest of the time until lunch obsessing about the pack's conversation about Brad.  He sends every single one of them a text which goes mostly unanswered.  Probably because the texts were less questions and more like desperate demands that they leave Brad alone. 

     **We decided to wait n see w@ Derek wants 2 do**.  Isaac texts him at one point. 

     **Why the fracking hell would Derek be involved**?  Stiles texts back. 

     **Cause he's the alpha.  Duh. <:P**  Isaac texts back. 

     Lydia's text was even more frustrating.  **Scott is an idiot for not telling you and everyone else is an idiot for talking on top of you.  I'll explain later, but I'm not doing it by text.  C U @ lunch**. 

     A quick hand taking his cell phone and replacing it with a book takes him by surprise. 

     "Something you want to share with the class Mr. Stilinski?"  The teacher asks dryly. 

     At the corner of his eyes, he sees Boyd sitting calmly beside him, Stiles' cell phone in his hands.  "Just reading the book under the table Mrs. Frields." 

     "You don't read books in my class."  She says shortly. 

     "You don't read books in an English Lit. class?"  Stiles asks sceptically.

     "You knew what I meant.  Now pay attention."  She snaps before returning to her lecture on why Ophelia was a feminist and why Kenneth Branagh's Hamlet was the best.

     By the time lunch time rolled around, Stiles mood had darkened considerably.  Partially because of the foreboding way the pack was talking about Brad as much as the way that so many kids at school were pestering him about Brad. 

     "Is he single?"

     "Are you dating?"

     "Are you guys screwing each other?"

     "Are you the top?"

     "Please, he's totally the bottom." 

     " _I_ wouldn't mind topping his bottom." 

     "How the hell did someone like you score someone like him?" 

     "It's because you put out isn't it?"

     "Are you really as slutty as people say?" 

     "I heard he's really big... you know, down there."

     "Give him my number."

     "He's only with you because he's never met me." 

     "How much did you pay him to hook up with you?" 

     "Oh my god, did you roofie him or something?"

     "Do you want to buy some girl scout cookies?"

     "Shut up!"  Stiles raged, grabbing a box of the petrified girl's cookies and throwing it against a locker, stomping on it madly for good measure, before marching away.

     That's how Stiles found himself on his back at the stands in the lacrosse field with his face to the cloudy sky, his eyes shut in frustration.  The vibration and sounds of footsteps heaves a sigh out of him, causing him to mutter darkly and throw his arms over his face. 

     "Go away."  Stiles screams into his arms. 

     "No, Stiles.  I will not leave you."  Brad says calmly before sitting at the stands above him. 

      Removing his arms from his face, Stiles looks up at the android with a contrite expression.  "Sorry, I thought you were... them." 

     "Your friends, or the rest of the school?" 

     "Both."  Stiles admits.  He didn't particularly feel like having a conversation about Brad with his pack _or_ with all the other kids at school.  "You're the talk of the school.  The new shiny thing.  You're a star, Brad.  I'm pretty sure you just got homecoming king by showing up." 

     "I'd accept under the condition that you were my homecoming queen."  Brad says seriously, earning a laugh from Stiles. 

     "Well, I _can_ rock a mad tiara."  Stiles chuckles.  "I'm guessing this is all Veronica's doing?"

     Brad nods down at him.  "They wanted more social interactions outside of the control group.  They're going to study the data collected during their next session with the archive." 

     "Wow, they're really going all out, eh?  But Brad Tipp?  Really?" 

     Brad frowns before rolling his eyes.  "Veronica thought it be would an amusing surname."              

     "So what?  They assigned you with a house and everything?  Or..."  Stiles said, making circling motions with his hands. 

     Brad nods, continuing Stiles' train of thought.  "I'll be staying with you." 

     "Seriously?"  Stiles says with surprise, wasn't really certain that that would be the case.  "'Cause sneaking you into my room for three days versus you living there for the school year are two very different things." 

     "A statement from a private school in New York City has been given to your father by a delegate from the company.  I'm an exchange student that has been assigned housing in your home due to the inclusion of your address in the exchange program's directory of participants."  Brad explains. 

     "Exchange program?  Doesn't that mean that _I'll_ be going somewhere?"  Stiles says with a frown.  The story didn't seem all that solid, and Stiles was quite certain that his father would find this whole thing ridiculously dubious.  "Besides, my dad's not an idiot.  He'll know that we didn't sign up for that." 

     "But there is legitimate documentation, Stiles.  We merely took advantage of this fact.  And no, it will be a unilateral exchange."  Brad explains.  "The document was signed by both of your parents and was dated nine years ago.  The company is very efficient."

     Stiles startles at the explanation.  Even though his father was a good, and fairly personable, man, he couldn't quite picture him consenting to having a stranger's child live with them for months at a time while sending off their own kid in exchange.  But if it was nine years ago, then... it... sounded like something his mother would do.  Because she was quite adamant about her child seeing the world.  And having the exchange at a private school in New York?  That would have been an incredible opportunity.  It seemed such an unlikely thing to him that a private school from New York City would be willing to exchange one of their students with one from a public school in random small town in northern California.  Then again, his mother was always capable of incredible things, especially when it came to him...

     "You're feeling sad?"  Brad observes as the silence stretched on between them.  Looking up, Stiles finds the android studying him with a disconcerted face.  "Do you not want me there?"

     Stiles shakes his head.  "It's not that.  Just... I started thinking about my mom.  This actually sounds like something she would do." 

     Brad gets up to move beside Stiles, sitting next to where Stiles' had laid his head on the hard, wooden, stands.  "My appearance here has caused undue stress for you." 

     "I don't think you're stressful Brad."  Stiles mutters, fully employing the honesty-is-not-the-best-policy practice in this case.  "It's fine." 

     "I'm sorry."  Brad says quietly beside him.  "If I've caused you trouble in your life.  I know that the terms of the contract has created problems between us."

     Stiles laughs harshly at the understatement before letting out a heavy sigh.  "No, that's not fair.  The contract's not your fault.  It's not your fault Brad.  I'm just... I don't know.  Frustrated by a lot of things.  The money's certainly one thing, but... there are other things to be stressed about..."  Stiles ends quietly, his mind flashing back to Derek in his room from the evening before.  The event that he shouldn't be thinking about.  The frustrating, confusing, grouchy, bull headed... 

     _Kiss me, out of the bearded barley_.  Greenberg sang.  Stiles could hear his faint voice ringing in the air despite his human ears.  He had to admit, the guy certainly was persistent with the ladies when he gets an idea into his head.  But seriously?  This song? 

     _Nightly, beside the green, green grass, swing, swing..._   He sang. 

     "Do you stress about me?"  Brad says quietly, his eyes locked on to Stiles' own. 

     "Sometimes."  Stiles admits.  "I think about you a lot... if I'm honest."

     _Swing the spinning step, you wear those shoes and I will wear that dress_.

     "I think about you too."  Brad says, leaning down slowly.  "If I'm honest." 

     _Oh, kiss me beneath the milky twilight.  Lead me, out into the moonlit floor, lift your open hand..._

     "You stress me out too."  Brad breathes out quietly, his lips suddenly so very, very close... 

     "Good stress, bad stress?"  Stiles asks breathlessly, staring at Brad's full lips.

     "You, stress.  Always you."  Brad says so quietly that Stiles almost misses it.

     _Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance, silver moon's sparkling.  So kiss me._

     Then Brad's lips are there, gentle and caressing.  It wasn't odd.  Slightly, and paradoxically, unexpected just as much as it was expected.  Stiles could see it coming a mile away from just looking into Brad's eyes.  Just as much as he knew that he wouldn't step out of the way once it arrived.  But the feeling it inspired were odd and surprising.  Different from before.

     It was an unusual kiss considering their faces were pointed in opposing directions.  It should have been awkward but it wasn't.  Brad's hands cupped his jaw gently as his tongue danced into Stiles' mouth. 

     _So kiss me_.          

     The bell that sounded the end of lunch rang in the air, pulling Stiles out of the effortless ease that were Brad's kisses.  He startles up into a sitting position, his face flushed and his pants tight. 

     "Did we just make out for most of lunch?"  Stiles asks with surprise just as his stomach growled in protest of the fact. 

     "It seems so.  I apologize.  I was far too preoccupied in your kiss."  Brad says abashedly.  Stiles was surprised, he probably shouldn't have been, at the fact that Brad seemed to have been just as flushed as he was. 

     "Shit."  Stiles mutters, scrambling to his feet to run down the bleachers.  Brad ran with him. 

      Still feeling flushed and hot under the collar at the fact that he had just kissed away the lunch break, a thousand thoughts rushed back into his head.  The persistent vibrating in his jeans had Stiles fishing his cell out of his pocket to find more than a dozen missed text messages from the pack asking about where he was.  Several of these were very terse messages from Lydia.

     "Great."  Stiles mutters as he sped walked through the grounds and towards the school.  "Just great." 

      He was going to blame Greenberg.  Yes he was.  That damn song and the kiss took away his lunch hour.  No one takes Stiles' lunch hour away from him.  Yep.  Blaming Greenberg.  It was all his and his stupid guitar's fault.  Speaking of which, Stiles was surprised to find Greenberg still sitting at one of the outdoor tables fiddling with his guitar. 

     "Hey you.  Stop that."  Stiles snaps at the guy.  Partially because Stiles felt envious of the fact that Greenberg had a spare block right after lunch (which he wishes he had so he could EAT), and partially because the guy's background singing wasn't helping.  Stiles eyed the guitar balefully while the boy fiddled with the strings.   

     He wasn't far from the school doors when a figure at the edge of the woods catches his attention.  With just a brief glance at the corner of his eyes, Stiles already knew who the person was. 

      Stiles stops in his steps and turns to Brad.  "Hey, I gotta grab something in my car.  You go in.  We have last class together, so I'll see you then?  I'll give you a ride back home?" 

      Brad just nods with a smile, easily accepting Stiles' words, before continuing on his way.  Once the android had walked through the doors, Stiles moves towards the woods and the dour man that stood at its edge, firmly ignoring the new song that Greenberg was trying to sing.   

     "You out here looking for rabbits to terrorize?  Drop the frown, you'll start a forest fire.  You have no right to frown.  _I_ have a right to frown.  I should be frowning dammit, not you."  Stiles snaps at Derek. 

     _Look into my eyes,  you will see, what you mean to me_.  Greenberg started to sing while Stiles continued on his rant at Derek, all the while exerting tremendous effort to ignore Greenberg's singing.          

     "Me and my normal human eyebrows with frowns so angular that _I_ start forest fires and petrify woodland animals due to their proximity to my frowns of doom!"  Stiles rambled as he approached Derek who was still glowering at him from the edge of the woods. 

     _Search your heart, search your soul.  And when you find me there, you'll search no more._

     Coming to a stop just in front of the looming and surly alpha, Stiles just glowers back in return.  Poking Derek's (holy shit - amazing -) chest, Stiles huffs out a frustrated breathe. 

     "You owe me a comforter.  And new bed sheets.  And new pillows."  Stiles rambles on.  "You can't just show up in the middle of the night, glaring at me until I wake up, and then suddenly undress my bed!  Who the hell does that?  What the hell is wrong with you?  Give me back my bed sheets!"

      _Don't tell me, it's not worth tryin' for_. 

     "I burned them."  Derek says through greeted teeth, his arms still folded stiffly against his chest. 

      _You can't tell me, it's not worth dyin' for_.

      Stiles gawks at the man.  "You burned my sheets?  You burned my sheets!  What the hell is wrong with you?  You stole my sheets and then you _burned_ them?  What'd they ever do to you?  I thought you hated fire!" 

      _You know it's true._

      Derek's glower just deepens at the word and starts showing rapidly sharpening teeth at Stiles. 

      _Everything I do_.

      "Oh, no.  You're not going to call _me_ insensitive Mr. I-Have-The-Emotional-Range-Of-A-Teaspoon.  You can't just show up in the middle of the night to steal and burn my things and _then_ come into my school to just growl at me.  I'm not afraid of you.  You think your growling does anything.  It does nothing.  NOTHING.  And let me tell you something Mr. I..."

      _I do it for you_.

     And then they were kissing. 

     Derek had quickly stepped forward, pulling Stiles into his arms to kiss him. 

     It wasn't like the kisses he shared with Brad.  Derek's were desperate kisses and more eager than he expected.  They were plentiful and deep.  Derek's hands clutched at Stiles' shoulders tightly as if those very hands were afraid that what they held would suddenly disappear. 

     Stiles doesn't know if he returned the kiss.  Or if he was even a participant in it.  The sheer shock of the act threw him for a loop.  It had blown out every single thought that had raced through his head until there was only the feeling of Derek's lips on his.  Past the pounding in his hears, and the rushing of deafening sound that played through his mind, Stiles could hear broken moans that cut through the air.  He didn't know who made the sound, suddenly being far more interested in tasting his way into Derek's mouth.  His lips were hot and paradoxically soft as it was rough.  But it was his tongue, Derek's tongue, that filled his mind.  Eager, thick, wet, and omnipresent in Stiles' mouth. 

      There was only emptiness for a long while.  Or a short one.  Stiles wasn't quite sure.  Time seemed irrelevant at the moment.  A speck of dust at the periphery of his consciousness.  So it came as a surprise to him when it was Derek who was pushing him away.  Stiles just looked at the man with half-lidded eyes, still feeling flushed from the kiss, his heart trying to beat out of his chest.  It was a curious thing to see, especially considering the seeming eagerness that had been, Derek looking at him with wide, shocked, eyes. 

      Derek's mouth stood slack and open, comical to see, while his eyes held a fear that Stiles couldn't understand. 

      "What..."  Stiles just manages to say before Derek Hale turned into the woods and ran. 

      "What the fuck?"  Stiles screams at the trees.   

      _You know it's true.  Everything I do.  I do it for you_.  Greenberg sang, the words finally registering in Stiles' head. 

     That's when he snaps. 

     Stiles marches back towards where Greenberg was still fiddling with his guitar, continuing on his quest to butcher the 90s soft rock classic.

     _Yeah, I would fight for you.  I'd lie for you, walk the wire for you.  Yeah, I'd die for you_. 

      Then when he was within grabbing distance, Stiles reaches for Greenberg's guitar and smashes it into the concrete ground with a feral scream.  Repeatedly.  Stomping at the pieces for good measure before yelling at Greenberg's astonished face.       

      "Shut up!"  He yells before he realizes that several people still milling about outside were staring at him.  "What're you looking at?" 

      Then it started to slowly seep into his consciousness that other people were staring at him too.  Particularly the classrooms on the ground floor as well as in the windows facing where Stiles stood.  Stiles notices a good number of students staring at him with amused faces, several of which were filming him with their cell phones.                

     "Fuck off!"  Stiles just yells out before marching back into the school.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to update is. I'm going to make it my mission to make an update to all three of my series' for Christmas. 
> 
> Anyway, so I tried experimenting with song in text in this chapter. Not sure if I succeeded. It was an experiment. 'Cause I have this idea of this little chase scene with music playing in the background in a future chapter. Lol. Did I fail spectacularly or not? It was an attempt to infuse some humour and build some tension at the same time. Ha ha.
> 
> Edit: I was just made aware that this fic made it to the Sterek Library. I'm flattered... but I must confess, they lumped it into android/robot Derek... and unfortunately Derek is not the android in this fic. Now I feel guilty. But YAY! I made it to the Sterek Library! But the same time (T_T) I'm sorry it's not really an android Derek fic! But yay! I love the Sterek Library and appreciate the awesome work they do there! I apologize if anyone was reading this expecting an android!Derek fic. I'm really sorry guys but I hope you enjoyed it anyway.


	13. Gackt!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles goes home early to find Peter in his house

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas! or Happy Holidays!
> 
> P.S. Do you guys know all the song artists they referenced?

     It was just a little bit of the ultra violence, so the response was clearly an overreaction.  Stiles didn't hurt Greenburg, or that girl with the girl scout cookies, or the freshman that he 'bumped' into on his way inside causing the kid to stumble forward and break the marshmallow diorama of the Globe Theatre he made for English Class.  Or at least, he hadn't _meant_ to hurt them.  In Greenburg's case, he meant to hurt the guitar.  The girl scout cookie girl was just at the wrong place at the wrong time.  Even then, the cookies had more cause to complain than the girl herself.  As for the diorama.... well, Stiles really did regret that one.  It was a marvellous piece of confectionery. 

     But then all of the evidence of his "indiscretions" had been laid out before him in the principal's office and consequences, apparently, had to be meted out.  Of course, Stiles took the brunt of the blame (as he probably should).  But to his surprise, Greenburg had gotten in trouble too.  Apparently the guy had broken into the girl's locker room and sang Bump N' Grind.  Considering _he_ wasn't suspended for doing such a thing, Stiles wasn't going to be suspended for having gone teen-pop-starlet-breakdown in the courtyard (minus the crotch exposure).  It helped that the principal seemed to sympathize with Stiles' plight.  Which didn't help Stiles feel better considering it just fortified the fact that even the faculty seemed to be privy to his current escapades.  Flashing back to the sight of various people taking videos and pictures of him losing his cool, Stiles shuddered to think just how far reaching this actually was.    

     Brad was supposed to be an entertaining piece of technology he could use for his own enjoyment.  But now he was starting to suspect that other people were gaining far more enjoyment from the spectacle Stiles had been making of himself because of Brad's existence.  Not that he blamed Brad.  Stiles thought him an innocent bystander in the whole thing.  Brad just didn't seem to understand the commotion he causes just by being within viewing distance of libidinous teenagers.  And adults; considering the teacher with the tight braid. 

     To Stiles' relief, he was being sent home early for the day.  He'd be missing his afternoon classes but he was pleased to find that the principal had given him leave to go home and relax for the rest of the day.  Stiles wasn't going to complain, he doubted his ability to not cause another spectacle on school grounds. 

     He got home at about half past one to a, thankfully, empty house.  Frankly he had plans to just vedge out in front of the TV and forget about the seeming cluster fuck that was the morning.  He had just about trudge his way up the stairs and into his room, collapsing into the bed with a weary groan, when he realized that there was someone sitting on his desk chair and using his computer. 

     He startles up from the bed in flurry of frantic limbs and loud exclamations when it finally seeped into his consciousness that the man violating his sanctuary was Peter Hale. 

     "God dammit, is trespassing a Hale family trait or something?  What the hell are you doing here creeper Peter?"  Stiles snaps, throwing a pillow at the man. 

     Peter catches it easily enough without even bothering to look back, seemingly all too interested in whatever he was viewing in Stiles' computer.  True to creeper Peter form, he sniffs the pillow before depositing it on his lap. 

     "I must admit, you have interesting taste in porn."  The older man says, his eyes trained on the computer screen. 

     "Gackt!"  Stiles chokes out, throwing his hands up in the air in defeat.  "You know what?  Whatever.  I'm going downstairs to eat." 

     Grumbling to himself, Stiles marches his way downstairs without looking back, all the while reminding himself to burn the pillow when he had the chance.  Then after scrounging around what little there was in the freezer, Stiles settles on having breakfast for lunch.    

     After spending a few minutes digging through the clutter of their cupboard for a non-stick frying pan, Stiles huffs out a breathe of exasperation at the sight of Peter leaning against the counter. 

     "You look a bit frantic."  Peter observes. 

     "Really?  And here I was going for desperate."  Stiles replies evenly. 

     "So what exactly did you do to warrant being sent home so early?"  Peter asks, cocking his head to the side in his curiosity. 

     "What're you doing in my house and using my computer in the middle of the day?"  Stiles retorts.  "And how did you get in?"

     "I asked you first."  Peter smiles sweetly, poking Stiles on the chest and making the younger man glower in return. 

     Stiles hesitates for a moment, staring at Peter blankly before speaking.  "I got pissed off and smashed a kid's guitar." 

     Peter chuckles.  "Somehow I'm not really surprised." 

     Stiles raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms.  "Are you accusing me of being a delinquent?"

     Rolling his eyes, Peter huffs out a laugh.  "You _are_ a delinquent.  In every definition of the word.  You've assaulted people, destroyed public property, _trespassed_ on private property..." 

     "I think you're confusing me with a Hale."  Stiles says bitterly. 

     "Are you denying you've done those things too?"  Peter asks, eyebrow raised in question. 

     "All with good reason!"  Stiles snaps, offended at the man's assertions. 

     "All against the law."  Peter points out with a finger in the air. 

     Stiles snarls at the man before throwing the pan over the stove with more force than necessary.  

     "You're awfully bitter today."  Peter observes, earning another glare from the young man.  Then as a sudden thought crosses him, Peter's mouth quirks into a smile.  "Am I annoying you?"

     "Oh, you always annoy me Peter."  Stiles points out sweetly.  "You're like that fungus you get after walking barefoot in the locker rooms.  Sure it's a person's fault for being there and walking barefoot.  And you think about how things might have been better if you've worn slippers.  Or if the janitor had been more conscientious.  But you can't help but think that it wouldn't have happened if you didn't put your foot in where it didn't belong.  Specifically, rank, bacterial infested floors."

     Turning the heat on the stove, Stiles waited before starting his fry up. 

     "Breakfast for lunch?  Really?"  Peter says with a nod at the food Stiles had prepared on the counter.  "Is that your life now?  Smashing an innocent bystander's guitar?" 

     "He wasn't innocent.  He was singing!"  Stiles seethed, poking at the sausages he'd thrown on the pan.

     "That bastard!"  Peter gasps with as much scandal he could muster.  "Honestly, the nerves of kids these days.  Back in my day, we had to walk through ten feet of snow before we got to sing."

     "He kept on singing these god damn nineties songs at the dumbest moments he could play them."  Stiles rants, ploughing onward as if he hadn't heard the man speak.  "I don't need a backing track for my life."

     "I agree."  Peter said with a nod.  "Quite frankly, teenagers are self interested enough as it is.  The last thing they need is an accompanying soundtrack."         

     "Didn't help things that I'm getting hounded about Brad."  Stiles says bitterly, poking at the meat on the pan.

      "Pack not being supportive?"  Peter questions with an eerie calm that has Stiles on alert instantly.  "Well, they don't support your choices like _I_ do, Stiles."

      "You know something."  Stiles says after a moment's pause, his eyes narrowed into slits.  "What'd you do?"

      Peter's eyebrows rise questioningly.  "I didn't do anything.  _You_ on the other hand...  what did _you_ do?"

      "I don't know what you're talking about."  Stiles answers quickly, turning his attention to the frying meat. 

      There was silence for a moment save for the sound of sizzling food and Stiles' even breathing.  Even though he couldn't hear his own heartbeat, he suspected that Peter was listening in to the suddenly fast beating of his heart.

      "Did you know, an odd thing happens when a man dies..."  Peter begins slowly.

      "I wouldn't know.  I've never died."  Stiles says sarcastically. 

      "Well, the others are convinced that you're on your way to rectify that little technicality."  Peter says sweetly. 

      "What're you talking about?"  Stiles asks, his brow furrowed quizzically.  "And can you tell me by getting straight to the point?  Before my bacon comes back to life?" 

      Peter smiles widely, crossing his arms across his chest before taking a deep, exaggerated, breath.  "Well, as it happens Lydia's little 'condition' gave her some rather curious abilities.  Other than an apparent immunity to the Bite." 

      "My bacon's sprouting legs..."  Stiles says, poking at the strips of meat. 

      Peter merely rolls his eyes and continues.  "To the point then?  Fine.  Apparently, according to Deaton, my bite has caused her to become better acquainted with death.  There were different ideas thrown about but, considering that her condition is fairly new, it's difficult to be completely sure of what she truly is.  One thing's for certain, she was able to ascertain that your new friend has been touched by death."

      "Like bad touch?  Go ahead Billy, show me on the dolly where Death touched you."  Stiles snarks. 

      "You joke, but the puppies are taking it quite seriously."  Peter says.  "Partially because Lydia's freaking out, and partially because Scott suddenly got quite territorial after the little talk he said he'd have with you." 

      Peter stares at him for a moment, as if the older man were waiting for him to weigh in on the subject.  Stiles endeavoured to remain silent, and merely prodded the mean on the pan after shrugging his shoulders. 

     "Aren't you going to ask me how _I_ knew?"  Peter asks after a silent minute.

     "I don't know Peter.  What?  There was a Dateline episode about my life?"  Stiles says, frustrated.  "'Young Hysteria: When Teenagers Get Aroused'.  Or is this the part where John Quiñones jumps out of my cupboard after you offer me some 'party juice'?"   

     Peter laughs.

     Stiles ignores Peter as he empties the pan of meat.  "Do I even _want_ to know why you know things?"

     Peter smirks.  "Oh, I'm sure you do." 

     Stiles sneaks a glance at him before shrugging.  "Okay fine.  But that's only because I'm highly inquisitive." 

     "The word's 'nosy'.  Like those meddling kids.  Or Nancy Drew."  Peter says.

     "The Hardy Boys."  Stiles offers.

     Peter levels him with a disbelieving look.  "Scott is _not_ a Hardy Boy." 

     "Yeah, he's totally a Fred."  Stiles says with a smile.

     Peter continues with his disbelieving look.  "Really?  Don't you mean Scooby?"

     "Nope.  Fred."  Stiles insists, striving to be loyal to his friend.  "Definitely Fred.  You're Old Man Jenkins."

     Then Stiles stills at his task before laughing out loud.  Peter quirks a smile at the hysterical teen.

     "What?"  Peter asks.

     "Dude!  You're totally Old Man Jenkins!"  Stiles wheezes in between laughs.  "And we're the meddling kids that ruined your plan." 

     Peter smacks him at the back of the head and steals a piece of bacon from his plate. 

     "Back on topic Stiles."  Peter huffs out.  "A dead man can recognize another." 

     Stiles stills at Peter's words.  "What're you talking about?"

     "Dying leaves a mark on a man."  Peter explains slowly as Stiles starts to shift his weight from one foot to another, clearly uncomfortable with the sudden shift in mood.  "That's one thing we have in common you know, Lydia and I."

     Stiles startles at Peter's words and opens his mouth to speak but was stopped by a raised finger from Peter.

     "No, she hasn't died."  Peter says.  "But we both do have a unique connection to death.  I could sense it in her.  Just as I sensed it in Brad."

     Peter shifts his body before moving closer to stand behind Stiles, the ghost of his breath caressing the young man's neck.

     "I felt it the moment I shook his hand."  Peter says, before slowly trailing a finger down Stiles' neck.  Goosebumps rose on top of the young man's skin where Peter caressed.  "I felt it in his touch.  I don't know why, but it felt very familiar."

      Stiles says nothing.  Partially because he didn't know what to say, and because it was difficult to pick out a thread of thought from the countless ideas that rushed through his head. 

      "I know he's not human.  But he's not a Werewolf.  Or whatever Lydia is.  But you know.  I know you do."  Peter breathes into his neck.  "What is he, Stiles?"

      "I don't know what you're talking about."  Stiles says evenly. 

      Stiles could feel Peter smirking against his skin, his lips barely touching his neck.  "You're lying."  The older man whispers into his ear. 

      Stiles scrambles out of Peter's grasp, moving the plate of bacon out of the way and throwing pieces of ham into the frying pan. 

     "You're annoying."  Stiles says instead. 

     Peter moves back beside him, staring at Stiles' impassive face as he cooked more meat.  "He smells like nothing."

     "What?"  Stiles asks, surprised. 

     "Brad."  Peter explains.  "He smells like nothing.  It's something that's difficult to notice since everything smells like something, for the most part.  He smells like the clothes he wore, or the detergent that was used on them, toothpaste, soap, and other scents from other crap that he had been in contact with.  But a personal scent?  He doesn't have one.  I've never met anyone without a scent before.  I'm sure the puppies have noticed by now, if they haven't already.  Derek texted me that he's at your school now."

     Stiles was pulled out of his thoughts regarding Brad at Peter's mention of the school.  He scowls down at the pan before him, mumbling angry words under his breathe. 

     "Don't remind me."  Stiles says through his teeth. 

     "It couldn't have been that bad."  Peter says, surprisingly running with the sudden change in topic.  Stiles suspects it may have something to do with the older man's seeming desire to encourage Stiles' foul mood.  "I imagine he's quite the bard."  

     "I mean, couldn't he have at least picked better songs?"  Stiles rambles on, ignoring Peter's words.  "The least he could do was pick songs that were more relevant to my life."

     "Nineties right?  So... something like Smells Like Teen Spirit?"  Peter quips, as if the act of associating the song with Stiles amused him.  Stiles just glares at him in return. 

     "Shut up creeper Peter.  Yours would be 'Creep'."  Stiles said, sticking out a tongue, childishly. 

     "Well, you'd be 'Wannabe'."  Peter said while looking at the ceiling. 

     "I am not!"  Stiles exclaims, highly offended.  "Zombie."

     "Loser."  Peter replies. 

     "Mr. Vain."  Stiles says as he tips the sausages onto a plate. 

     "King of Wishful Thinking."  Peter offers to the game that they were now playing.  The man was trying to smooth his expression into something sober, not wanting to let the younger man know how amused he was by this exchange.  He was internally relieved at being familiar with a sizeable repertoire of nineties music.

     "Insane in the Brain."  Stiles says while dumping a packet full of bacon onto the pan. 

     "Lovefool."  Peter returns.

     "No Scrubs." 

     "Don't Speak."

     "Ironic."  Stiles said, rolling his eyes.

     Peter snorted from where he leaned against the counter.  "You Oughta Know." 

     "Uninvited."

     "Smooth."

     "Virtual Insanity." 

     "Dreaming of You."  Peter says without a beat, looking at Stiles with sudden intensity.  The words startles Stiles out of the meat he was frying and he lifts a wondering brow at Peter who was now stalking slowly towards him. 

      "U Can't Touch This."  Stiles says when Peter was within prime groping distance.  Not that he was calculating. 

      "Gonna Make You Sweat."  Peter says quietly, the corner of his lips quirking up into a smirk. 

      "Foolish Games."  Stiles mutters. 

      "You're Tearing Up My Heart."  Peter says with mock hurt in his voice. 

      "C'est La Vie." 

      "Livin' La Vida Loca."  Peter says before stepping forward, pushing Stiles against the far counter and taking the teen's lips into his. 

       For the longest moment, Stiles just surrenders into the kiss out of shock more than anything else, the spatula in his hand still suspended in mid air.  But Peter's kisses were eager, warm, and persistent on his lips; the older man's tongue slipping through his teeth to meet with his.  Peter's hands snakes down Stiles' body before settling on his hips to pull him roughly forward, pressing their hard manhoods together.  Stiles groans into the older man's mouth before the sound of one of the ham popping pulls him out of it.  Then pushing the man away and sneaking around his body, Stiles returns to flipping the slabs of meat before they burnt to a crisp. 

      "Okay, this is where you leave."  Stiles says, not removing his eyes on the cooking food. 

      "Say It Ain't So."  Peter offers with a chuckle, but Stiles' words next, harsh, words cuts off his laughter. 

      "Not playing anymore.  Go away now.  Me time.  Don't you have a play date with Voldemort or something?"  He answers, not looking back.

      It was silent long enough that Stiles actually thought that Peter might have done what he asked.  But his life would never be that easy.  Turning back to look at Peter, Stiles find the man giving him an intense look.  A look that was shrewd, frustrated, and aroused all at once.  Before this look completely registered in Stiles' brain, Peter had reached forward and switched the stove off before lifting Stiles so the teen was straddling his hips and the man was exploring Stiles' neck with his mouth. 

      Peter's warm tongue dancing across his throat was a fog through Stiles' consciousness, and the man's rough, strong, hands clutching onto his hips was the tether to this sensation.  Stiles surrendered, momentarily, to the sensation of teeth and tongue on his skin as Peter manoeuvres them into the living room couch where the man lays Stiles on his back before climbing on top of him.  Peter's weight on him was heat, pressure, and a wonderful heaviness.  And it was confusing.  It wasn't helping matters that he was now both hungry _and_ horny.  It wouldn't do to associate one with the other at all, especially when considering the fact that he experiences both things excessively at any given time.  Coupled with the fact that it had been a particularly frustrating day, he was well aware of the fact that a big part of him was more than willing to surrender to the intoxicatingly wonderful emotions coursing through his body at this very moment. 

      Emotions that are triggered from the way Peter's weight is pressing down on his body, the man's hardness rubbing against his own.  Or the way the older man's hands have gone under his shirt and is now sliding up to caress his nipples.  Or the way that the man's tongue dances into his mouth, the growl in his throat sending vibration's down Stiles' spine. 

      It would be a simple thing to surrender to it.  After all, he's surrendered to other things with other people lately, why not this one as well?  He gave in to Scott.  He gave in to Brad's kiss.  To Derek's kiss.  What would this potential experience with Peter be but another notch in his ever expanding sexual awakening?  Why not take advantage of the fact that seemingly three attractive men have showered him with the attention he had only ever dreamed of before? 

      What would be so wrong with that? 

      The question, once asked, rushes through and multiplies in his head.  In a matter of seconds, despite Peter's distraction of marking Stiles' throat with his teeth, the question is asked in many ways, repeatedly, in Stiles' head.    

      But his father's words that played through his head was the dash of cold water that he needed.  Because the man had been right.  Stiles couldn't help but admit that he was indeed unnaturally horny and opportunistic if the current situation was any indication. 

     And that made him feel like a hypocrite. 

     For some reason. 

     He couldn't particularly think of why at that moment.  But perhaps he'd be able to once he pushed Peter away and his penis was no longer calling the shots.

     Any moment now Stiles will be pushing Peter away.

     Any moment. 

     In a few seconds. 

     Just after this small thing... 

     And so he did.  Clutching the man's shoulder's firmly with his hands, Stiles pushes the man away with all his might.  Of course, Peter misunderstood the intention.  He quickly moved away from his spot on Stiles' throat to start pulling his Henley off of his body. 

     "This is wrong."  Stiles gasps out as Peter rocks back on his position on top of Stiles' hips. 

     "Oh, we haven't even started."  Peter said, his pupils blown wide with lust.    

      "Stop!  Stop!"  Stiles says quickly, reaching forward to stop the man from unbuckling his belt.  Stiles takes a moment to just breathe and admire Peter's astonishingly attractive physique, holding on to the man's hands positioned on his belt buckle, before speaking further.  "It's a no, Peter.  Just stop." 

      Peter tilts his head for a moment, his expression even before levelling into a scowl and the man is swiftly moving off Stiles' body on the couch, muttering curses under his breath.     

     "You want this."  Peter snarls at Stiles.  "I can smell it, _feel_ it.  You're practically gagging for it."

     "Yeah, well I'm figuring out that I'm a bit of a selfish guy."  Stiles mutters more to his benefit than Peter's.  "I'm trying this thing where I'm cutting down on my vices.  I'm pretty sure fucking the hate away falls under that category." 

     "Whoever said selfishness was a vice have never surrendered to their own desires.  Selfishness is how puritans describe pleasure.  And believe me Stiles when I say,"  Peter growls, low, menacing, and with significant sexual intent, "that you are far, far, from pure."

     "Never said I was.  But no means no, right?"  Stiles says wearily, his head spinning from the endorphins. 

     Before he could look up, Peter was back on top of him, pushing him down into the couch, the older man's eyes boring into Stiles' own. 

     "Why should I stop now?  I could just fuck you and be done with it.  Break you in and ride you until you're begging for it."  Peter growls lowly.  "You'd be feeling me for days."     

     A shiver, different from the arousal from a few minutes before, travels up Stiles' bones.  "So murder, extortion, and now statutory rape?"

     "In for a penny, in for a pound, mother always said."  Peter says dryly.  "It's not like you haven't lately.  Has Brad done this to you?  Opened up for him?  Has Derek?  I know you've been with Scott.  We could smell you on him." 

     "Do you even feel guilt?"  Stiles asks sombrely.

     "Sex and brandy help in that regard.  Guess which one you'll be participating in?"  Peter mumbles huskily, his nostrils flaring.  "I can still smell it on you.  You want me to fuck you even if you're saying no." 

     "Nope.  Listen to the mouth buddy, my penis is a terrible judge of character."  Stiles grits out as he starts pushing Peter away.  "Move, Peter.  Do you have a death wish?  Don't make me kill you again."

     "I had already died long before you killed me."  Peter says quietly, his eyes cold and detached.  "You're quite the tease, you know.  Not just to me it seems.  I must tell you that I am _nothing_ like my nephew.  I like the chase as much as any other man, but I must tell you the I much prefer the catch."

     "Oh I don't know, I see some family resemblance."  Stiles replies with a squint. 

     "I have every intention of fucking you raw, Stiles.  I'm not like my nephew who seems to be intent on living his life like a 19th century Russian Novel."    

     "That's coming across loud and clear, yeah."  Stiles mutters under his breath.  "I'm starting to think that maybe you Werewolves were built to make my life a living hell.  Seriously.  Even Scott.  Especially Jackson.  Not so much Boyd."

      "Really?  You're brining up the pups right now?  Not a good time, Stiles."  Peter huffs out before leaning forward to, once again, gnaw at Stiles' throat.        

     But Stiles stills at his words, the meaning of which finally piercing through his hormonally addled brain.  Peter growled in frustration as Stiles' uses most of his strength to push at the man's chest.  "Peter, you called them puppies."

     Peter tilts his head curiously, face still set in a sexually frustrated frown.  "Yes?  So?"

     "I'm the same age as them."  Stiles points out, but Peter still stared at him uncomprehendingly.   

     "And?"  Peter asks, clearly not getting the point.

     "That would make _me_ a puppy too."  Stiles points out before narrowing his eyes at the older man.  "Peter...  are you a puppy fucker?"

     They just stare at each other for a long, quiet, minute. 

     "Well, that effectively ruined the mood."  Peter huffs out before detaching himself from the younger man.  "I should be going then."

     "That's a good idea."  Stiles says with a nod as relief rushes through him. 

     "Enjoy your brunch."  Peter calls out as he makes his way out of the kitchen.  Stiles just gives him a half-hearted wave in turn.  "Oh and Stiles.  Don't think the conversation is over.  You're hiding something about Brad.  How confident are you that it's something that won't kill you?"

      Stiles bristles at the man's tone.  "I trust him a hell of a lot more than I trust you."

     "You wound me."  Peter replies mockingly.  "Well, I may not be as impulsive as the others, but my curiosity is piqued.  There's something familiar about him beside our kinship in death.  I'll handle it in my own way of course.  But I must warn you that the others will not be as clandestine as I am."

     Stiles just watches him with narrowed eyes as the man starts walking away. 

     "By the way, thanks for the computer.  It was very informative."  Peter calls out on his way out of the door. 

      It wasn't until much later in the evening, much later than the point when it occurred to Stiles that he probably should pick Brad up from school considering the android was now living with him, that Stiles discovered what exactly it was that Peter did on his computer.  Or rather, he had a fairly confident suspicion as to what it was.  Because foolishly, Stiles had forgotten to log out of his email account (or so he thinks, he can't quite remember checking it in the morning in the first place; did he?).  The email account that Veronica had just used to email him (to Stiles' insistence after the supposed "we sent you mail" debacle) regarding Brad's lodging.  And other things.  Nothing explicitly detailing Brad's origin mind you.  But Stiles was sure that Peter had not only read that email, but had taken note of who had sent it as well.     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick post. I think this is the right chapter. I'm running late and I have to pick up my cousin from the skytrain. Sorry, I'll check later if it's the right one. I'm pretty sure it is. Sorry if it isn't. I hoped you enjoyed the others as wlel! 
> 
> Gotta run, Merry Christmas to all of you! Happy Holidays if you don't celebrate! Have a good one!


	14. Mhm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's something wrong with Scotty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING! : This chapter contains a non-con scene that may be uncomfortable for some readers. Discretion is advised. It's plot non-con though, and it gets stopped before it gets too far. But then again, it may already be too far for some readers. 
> 
> Also: I turned on one of my email addies to show up. It's on my profile page now. Supposedly. Feel free to kick my ass there for not posting new chapters. ^_^"
> 
> Not a particularly long chapter. But Microsoft Word tells me that I've written 114 pages of this story. 12 font, single spaced. Damn. O.o That's a lot of rabble, ain't it?

     Stiles is suffering.

     There's pain. And torture. And tears that stem from insufferable torment.

     The whole damn school is still talking about him and Brad. _Looking_ at him and Brad. Watching him. Stiles swears that it's not only the student body involved. He's seen teachers watch him. Or watch Brad. He wasn't used to this kind of attention. At one point, in his life, he thought that he might like this kind of attention. But considering the amount of secrets he's kept of late... he found this degree of attention to be rather oppressive. Unfortunately. He knows his younger self would have revelled in seeming popularity (negative or positive, he's not sure) such as this. His current self definitely finds it oppressive.

     In the past, he had lived in a bubble. Scott and him were the only ones in that bubble. Then it began to include the others; like Allison, Lydia, and the pack. But the bubble was still filled with familiar and comfortable things. This helped take the brunt of strain during the bad times. But this type of attention? He found that it now only served to burst that comfortable bubble of familiarity that Stiles relied on amongst the sheer amount of fuckery their lives were built around. It was not a good thing. It was a stressful thing.

     Lydia gives him a look; a 'I'm not going to commiserate with you because I have a feeling you brought all this misery on to yourself' kind of look.

     Well, she can go screw herself with a Brillo pad.

     "You're over analysing my look right now, aren't you?" Lydia asks. "Well don't bother, because I wasn't looking at you, I was looking for Danny."

     "Danny?" Stiles hadn't really been paying attention. Which was sad, considering all the things he said to Danny during the picnic. Hypocrite. Hypocrite. Hypocrite. "He's not here?"

     "For three days now." She said with a frown. "Jackson's not very happy. I talked to his mom. Said he was having a long weekend."

     "It's Wednesday."

     "It's unusual is what it is." Lydia says quietly as she pokes at her still full pudding cup.

     "It's irrelevant, is what it is." Erica butts in, sitting in the empty seat next to him. In the distance Stiles sees Scott frowning at the gesture.

     "Scott's not gonna be happy with you sitting there." He points out helpfully before rounding on Lydia and her painful torture of the pudding cup. "You gonna eat that?" She just rolls her eyes and surrenders the tasty treat to Stiles' delight.

     "Screw him." Erica snipes before her lips widen into a feral grin. "So he's living with you now?"

     "Who's living with him now?" Lydia asks with surprise, her eyes lightening up with interest.

     "The Romeo to his Juliet." Jackson pipes in as he finds his way to the seat next to her.

     "Derek?" She asks sceptically jus as Stiles snaps at Jackson with a 'Bitch, I ain't no _Juliet_.'

     "Brad." Scott grumbles through a frown while he tries to shove Erica away from Stiles. To no avail. The girl literally tries to bite his hand before pushing him away. Rolling his eyes, Stiles makes more room on his left for his best friend. Scott grins happily.

     "No." Lydia says with so much shock that it surprises Stiles. "Brad?"

     "Yes?" Brad asks from behind her as if he had been summoned. He moves to sit on Lydia's other side, across from Scott. Neither seem very happy about that fact. But Brad is just grinning happily as he settles his tray of... scratch that, _mountain_ of food on the table.

     Huffing a breathe of frustration, Jackson collects his tray and stands up only to force Brad to scoot over and take the space between him and Lydia.

     The gesture seemed to have been lost on the girl as she rounds on her boyfriend with critical eyes. "Why didn't you tell me this?"

     Jackson chews quickly through his bite of pizza while levelling Lydia with an indignant look. "I thought you knew. You're like, the first one who always know about these things."

     Lydia narrows her eyes. "You know what they say about people who assume?"

     "Wouldn't that make you one too?" Erica says sweetly.    

     "A what?" Jackson asks.

     Stiles rolls his eyes. "An ass. Like you." Jackson pelts him with a tater tot. To everyone's surprise, including his own, Stiles catches it in his mouth.

     "Mhm. I wonder what Derek's going to say." Lydia muses out loud. It catches Stiles' attention. He raises his eyebrow and snorts at her. She just smiles sweetly back. "You're sceptical about something?"

     "Like Derek would give a damn." Stiles mutters before shovelling more food into his mouth.

     "Like nothing happened?" Lydia says sweetly. Stiles stills at her words.

     He's looking at her with narrowed eyes. "Like nothing happened like what?" As if that made sense. But it apparently made enough sense to Lydia that she just keeps on with her ridiculous Cheshire grin.

     "That's why I'm asking." She said.

     "You didn't ask anything." He retorts.

     "I'm asking now." She countered.

     Like a goddamn tennis match.

     "There's nothing to say." Stiles insisted.

     "There's something to be said." She insists.

     "Like what?" He asks.

     "That's what we want to know." She replies sweetly.  

     "There's nothing to be said!" He snaps, voice pitching high. "Absolutely nothing. I have nothing invested in that relationship."

     "There's a relationship?" Erica asks with a smirk.

     "There's plenty to be said." Boyd magically offers from somewhere. The guy's a freaking magician.

     "Let's run it down, shall we?" Lydia says happily. "Suspiciously hot man..."

     "Suspiciously?" Stiles asks curiously.

     "...appears out of nowhere to make out with Stiles. People swoon over the Casanova who inexplicably ignores my beauty." She prattles on, ignoring Stiles' little interruption. And Erica's loud snort at the 'inexplicable beauty' part. "Draws the attention of the whole school. Can spout of random and obscure things at a rate that matches Stiles' so-called 'wit'. Tales of the epic romancing spreads like wildfire throughout the town, which becomes the little town's people's new tabloid obsession thanks to a curious spread of photographic evidence..."

     "Who the hell took those pictures?" Stiles exclaims.

     "...which causes the ire of one brooding, yet dashing, gentleman." Lydia presses on. "Which results into an epic battle of skill at a dodge ball court. What follows is then more, irritating, popular attention at school which, once again, inexplicably results in his very own soundtrack..."

     "I didn't need the running commentary of my life." Stiles grits out, interrupting again. "I still don't. Why don't we stop there, yeah?"

     "Yeah, tell us something new." Erica says instead.

     "Is there, Stiles?" Brad asks, to Stiles' surprise. For a moment there, he forgot that the android was at their table. Stiles stared at him for a second, trying to scrutinize something from Brad's seemingly impassive face. And fails.

     "Is there, what?" He asks instead.

     "Is there something there? Between you and Derek Hale? Do you have a vested interest in him?" Brad asks with an eerie sort of calm.

     "No, there isn't." Stiles bristles. "Investments or otherwise. I wouldn't know. But I imagine investing on a Hale would be like emotional Russian roulette. I don't imagine the returns would be worth it. Highly likely somebody literally gets shot."

     "Well, that's a lie. Other than the getting shot part." Jackson scoffs then flinches after receiving a curious glare from Scott. Stiles _knows_ Scott just kicked Jackson under the table. "Whatever." Jackson mutters under his breathe.

     Stiles doesn't give them the time to press the issue. Or think too much about Brad's inquisitiveness regarding his relationship with one Derek Hale. Hell, even he doesn't think much about his relationship with one Derek Hale. Mainly because there _isn't_ a relationship, whatsoever, with one Derek Hale. Despite evidence to the contrary.

     He leaves as soon as the bell rings and tries to avoid talking to any of them for the rest of the day. Not that that's an easy feat. Werewolves are astonishingly persistent. Specifically Scott, who's become more attentive towards Stiles of late. Even Allison seems surprised by this. Stiles thinks nothing of it and, in fact, starts relishing it. Stiles still resents the fact that Scott had a tendency of pushing him to the wayside when it came to Allison noogie.    

     But at the end of the day, he succeeds fairly well. Minimal interaction with the pact with maximum avoidance of heady topics like Derek and Brad and feelings schmeelings and whatnot.

     One day a thought occurs to him.

     He hadn't seen Peter in days.

     Not that he's complaining. Or masturbating. But the pack hasn't seen Peter in days either. Not that he's asked. Or masturbated. Likely Peter was off somewhere in one of his gentlemanly jaunts somewhere, wherever, doing whatever. Or whomever. Not that he cares. Having lunch with the Ramsey family. Playing golf with OJ. Tea with Rupert Murdoch. Boiling puppies in a broth of unicorn's blood and Satanic piss. Evil things. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence for him to disappear for days at a time, sometimes for weeks. Usually nobody cared. So there was particularly no reason for Stiles to care. Was there?

     Of course not. Don't be silly Stiles. And stop touching yourself.

     He's busy not caring about a lot of things. Like Derek's kiss. The heat of his body. The alluring scent of his musk.

     No. Of course not. There was never a point where Stiles attached the word 'alluring' to one Derek Hale. He'll never admit it. He never will. So don't bother asking.

     "My inner narrative is confusing." He sighs heavily. He's in his bedroom on a Saturday afternoon. He's succeeded in dodging out of a recent pack bonding activity. Good reason too. Absolute lie though. Point of fact - MUCH easier to lie to a werewolf over the phone. Stiles wonders why that was. Point of fact (and a bit of side trivia) - always easy to lie to Isaac in person. Despite his enhanced senses, the guy is crap when it came to detecting lies via-heartbeat or pulse. The current doodle on his paper reminds him of his lie. He crumples up the doodle and aims a throw at the waste basket. He lets out a dejected sigh when he misses.

     Truth be told, he'd been avoiding the pack the past few days more than he really should have been. For the most part. The 'most part' part being failing in his quest for isolation.

     " _Isolation_ , _isolation_..." He sang. Then getting the urge to watch that episode of the Mighty Boosh again, he spends the next hour revelling in the thought of coconut spouses.

     He sighs again, thinking about how the world would certainly be simpler if he fell in love with a coconut instead. Or if he was neutered. Ball-less, Stiles thinks he'd get into far less trouble than he normally would. Damn. He wouldn't mind parting with his testicles if he weren't so darn attached to them. And whatnot. So to say.

     Damn it all to hell, he's thinking about Derek's balls.

     He tries his best to think of coconuts instead.

     He could dress it up with a moustache, some blue jeans, maybe a Henley (coconuts... not Derek's balls you bastards)... add some scruff... a little scowl-y face. Name it Coconerek. Coconerek sings about isolation...

     He ends up taking all the eggs from the fridge and dresses 'em up with marker faces and little paper clothes. He lines them up along his computer desk and gives them all names. He'll deny to anyone that they were all meant to look like the pack. Except one. One looks like a panda. He names the panda egg, Mephisto the Terrible. He gives Mephisto a cape made from a Mars wrapper.  

     And with that done, he leaves the house for the nearby corner store after getting a hankering for coconut juice. And replacement eggs. He can hardly kill the eggs he anthropomorphized. They didn't sell any juice, so he settled for coconut cookies instead. Scott was there, lying on his bed, when he got home, his hands behind his head. Shirtless. Stiles wonders if his armpits were always that bushy. Then he feels ridiculous about how he suddenly wishes his armpits were that bushy.

     "Where's Brad?" Were the first words out of Scott's mouth.

     Stiles can't help but roll his eyes and takes a slow bite of a cookie. "My dad's showing him off at the police station. They're bonding over... something. I don't know what. I was too afraid to ask. Or to go with them. Not that I wasn't invited or anything. It was _my_ choice not to go." He insists. "Sides, the idea of what people might think if I came along kinda freaked me out a bit." ('Cause _those_ pictures were still making their rounds. Stiles swears one of the cops at the station has that picture of Brad carrying Stiles as the desktop image on her computer).

     Scott then plasters a grin on his face and reaches forward (with Werewolf speed, if you'll believe it) once Stiles was close enough to grab him and pull him down onto the bed.

     "Scott!" Stiles yelps indignantly, clutching the box of cookies tighter in his hands while being careful not to crush the one in his hand. It's not easy. Especially when you have a hundred and seventy pounds of Werewolf snuffling your neck. And biting it. And licking it. "Scott, that's not helping. Here, have a cookie instead."

     "I haven't hung out with you in forever." Scott gripes as he winds his legs around Stiles' waist to hold him down, continuing his efforts on Stiles' neck. "And I seriously think you've been trying to avoid us at school."

     Stiles tries to get the turtle-wolf off his back but, not unlike a Chinese finger trap, Scott just seems to hold on to him tighter as he struggles in the Were's arms. Not that Stiles minded all that much. Scott smelled muskier than usual. Pleasantly. Like a heady scent that lingers in the air. Erotic.

     Which is something Stiles shouldn't be thinking about. Not right now. Not, um, yeah, considering his intentions. Which were... what? Oh right.

      "Uh, yeah. I _have_ been trying to avoid all you guys at school." He says as he _tries_ not to tilt his head to allow Scott further room to do those wonderful things on his neck. "Not that I'm succeeding."

     The body beneath him stills. "You _have_ been trying to avoid us? Even me?"

     Oh great. He wounded a puppy. He sighs heavily and shoves a cookie into Scott's mouth. It wasn't hard to aim, even in their octopussy-position, since Scott's pouting lips were firmly pressed on Stiles' neck.  

     "No offence buddy, but I needed some me time outside of the cacophony of Benny Hill experiences. And, I'm not sure if you've noticed, but my school life of late have been a tad _too_ Secret Life of the Irritating Teenagers for my tastes." He explains. It was true enough. "And I have a feeling that Lydia's been trying to get me alone to have some sort of serious talk that I seriously feel like avoiding. She keeps on hinting at something I kinda don't want to think about. Not that I actually _know_ what she wants to talk about, but it's just that I have a sneaking suspicion that it's a conversation that I would find rather unpleasant. So, I'd rather... you know... not have it."

     Scott briefly detaches himself from Stiles' neck.

     Oh man, the hickies...

     "Yeah, I think she wanted me to talk to you about that..." Scott says before turning his attention back to Stiles' skin, grazing his teeth along Stiles' shoulder.

     "Talk to me about what?" Stiles asks before he can think. "Not that I want to know."

     "I forgot." Scott replies vaguely before catching Stiles' left ear with teeth and tongue.  

     "Mind letting go of the chew toy?" Stiles says through a mouthful of cookies he just shoved in his mouth. Crumbs? Who cares about crumbs on the bed? He was a daredevil! He fears no ants.

   "You're no fun." Scott mumbles into his skin. Tingly sensations burst throughout Stiles' body. It's not a good thing. Allison was his bro too. One time may count as 'curious exploration from close-ever-bro-friends'. But doing it twice? That's starting to be a pattern of behaviour. A pattern of behaviour behind Allison's back. His friend's back. Granted, girlfriend of a best friend. But there's a relationship foundation there that still calls for a modicum of respect. He already felt a bit bad about the first time... a little bit... a modicum of guilt. No more. No less. Maybe more. But a second go around on the Sciles express? It may be badly crossing some arbitrary line that he sets for himself.

     Then again, he never did describe himself a moral man of any kind. He's even called himself a hypocrite on more than one occasion. Not that he doesn't _try_ to be better. He's certainly done better. He _can_ do better.  

   "Why are you shirtless on my bed? In my room?" Stiles asks as he attempts to struggle out from atop Scott's body. His friend is not making it easy. Certainly making his attempts to be less of a hypocrite more difficult than it really needs to be. "Scott, can you detach yourself from my neck and put on a shirt?"

     "No." Scott growls to Stiles' surprise. The next thing he knows, he's been flipped over so that he's belly down on the bed and Scott's on top of him, grinding his crotch into Stiles' ass. His friend is heavy and... and... grinding. Hot. Hot like heat, not so much eroticism. At the moment, Stiles is more overwhelmed by a sense of shock and niggling fear.

     "No? Um, buddy, hey buddy, say what now?" Stiles manages to ramble through a mouthful of cushions. His friend's not making it easy. Scott keeps grinding his crotch down onto Stiles' ass, Scott's legs on either side of Stiles' waist. Scott's hands are pinning his arms against the head board, while his teeth are scraping and gnawing on his neck.

     Stiles spares a thought about how awful it is that a bunch of cookies spilled out of the box and onto the floor. Some non-relevant thoughts that cross his head include: when was the last time I vacuumed? Can I still eat the cookies? I should have bought two boxes. The rest are panicked thoughts that flash through in colours. Reds and flashes of a dark orange-yellow. Like danger lights. Panicked. Disco. It's confusion and astonishment at unexpected things. Unexpected things like Scott saying 'no' to... to... Stiles not wanting it.

     Scott is growling. He's grinding. He's biting. There's tongue that caress his neck, his skin. Scott's hand tightens on Stiles' wrist, keeping them pinned against the headboard. Stiles pleads more for him to stop, but Scott does not relent. He grinds harder. Faster. He growls in Stiles' ears. Husky whispers of 'no' that are not his.

     "Scott, stop!" Stiles is pleading now, a bit... no, a lot more desperately. There's a bubble of fear that's rising to the surface. Likely because he can't move. He should be able to move. Scott doesn't weight that much more than him. At least not enough that he shouldn't be able to throw him off, Werewolf strength or not. Or yes. That might be it. Scott seems to be digging in, holding on tight, intent on getting deeper into Stiles. Clothed or not. Hypothetically, for now. Stiles doesn't want to be able to experience the fact. Not like this. Scott isn't like this. He wants to be able to fucking move.  "Dude, what the hell are you doing? I said stop!" He's pleading into the cushions now. The desperation in his voice is clear, and it's shocking even in his own ears. It's something he never expected to hear himself say.  

     "You want this." Scott snarls into Stiles' ears. "I can smell it, _feel_ it. You're practically gagging for it." He thrusts harder against Stiles' ass. Stiles can feel the hard bulge in his friend's pants. Clawed hands tighten on his wrists as his breathe hitches from the familiarity of his friends words. So familiar. So wrong.  None of this was sexy.  

     His heart starts to pound in his ears. Those weren't Scott's words... even if they were... but just that... those words... they were Peter's words. Every. Single. One. They should never have come out of Scott's mouth. His kind mouth. His puppy mouth. That wasn't his friend, it couldn't be.

     "Scott. Stop. Please." Stiles pleads. There are other things he knew he could say, but it just became so difficult to say them. There's a heaviness against his chest that wasn't the weight of his friend. He recognizes it. He's familiar with it. He's overcome it before. It's fear. It's his friend, at this point, after everything he's seen and done in his life. But somehow this is different. Maybe because he never expected to fear family. Someone he loves is scaring him, and every measure of courage he'd drudged up in the past doing other more frightening things just... crumble away. Only the viscous residue of shock and dismay that remain. And shame. "Just stop, please."

     To Scott's credit, he stops. He jumps up and away from Stiles' body. He's apologizing profusely. Stiles doesn't bother to look, he's far too busy still burying his face into his pillow. He can't look at him, not now. It would be like acknowledging it. Acknowledging something. It's not the time. He can't look.

     "Oh my god. I'm so sorry." Scott says desperately from, what sounds like, the corner of the room. "Dude. I'm sorry. I don't know what I was doing. Fuck. Umm... oh god."

     "It's fine." Stiles mumbles into the couch cushions, even if it wasn't. He needed to get himself in order.

     Buck up Stilinski! That wasn't your friend! Wasn't. Never is. Couldn't have been. Werewolves and lizard people and druid exist. Magic fucking ash that never end. Robot people that are just like people but are not people. So clearly, it was something else.

     Bad feelings. There are bad feelings. It's all inside him. It's heavy, heady, and overwhelming. It's his, and it's real, and it's far too unpleasant. But it needs to be pushed aside because _that_ couldn't have been real. Because there were words that were said that should never have been. Couldn't have been. He knew his friend well enough... more than well enough... to know that those words would _never_ have come from it.

     These are all in his head. Crossing and flashing through his brain like shooting stars at midnight. Brief flashes of light that makes streaks in the darkness. Ideas that flash by to quickly be acknowledged and forgotten, because right now there's only rapid breathing. Breathe hitching. There's overwhelming vertigo despite the fact that his eyes are closed and pressed against his pillow. Yet his head is spinning and his body is cold. He's shaking. Scott's still apologizing, somewhere, and Stiles wants to say something but, god, he's far too busy trying to pull himself together. It's just so damn hard sometimes to pull back the pieces that have crumbled away. He's done it before. He has friends. He still has family. He needs to think of that.

     But it's so damn hard when those damn words ring in his ear, with a voice that should never have come from his friend. It pisses him off. It really does. Because it wasn't his friend. The anger gives him enough will to turn over and gasp for fresh air. To open his eyes and stare at the ceiling. The world is still spinning, but it's slowing down to a more manageable speed. He feels clammy... but he knows he was still sweating.

     He can see Scott has tucked himself against the corner, he's on his haunches with his head between his hands. He's rocking himself back and forth, apologizing all the while. It looks so damn pathetic that he gets angry at the fact that he feels sorry for the friend that he's supposed to be angry at. Then he gets angry at the fact that he thinks that. It's like contingent anger... never ending... an infinite amount of self hate that recycle itself nonsensically. He manages to push himself up and to his feet. To hustle toward his friend. Stiles is comforting him now, taking a rocking ball-o'-Scott into his arms. His friend's desperately remorseful. He keeps on repeating it under his breathe.

     "It's alright. It wasn't you. It's fine. You stopped." Is what Stiles says. He believes it. He thinks he does. Not the time to think too much about it.

     He wants to say more. He needs to say more. There was an explanation there. If not an explanation... there was an idea. Or the beginnings of it at least. There definitely was a curiosity that's currently been submerged by other things. He knows it's something about what Scott said. It was something that Peter said. Exactly like what Peter said. Hell, he kinda acted like Peter. So unlike Scott. Maybe it was unlike Peter at all? Or not. But it wasn't right. On so many levels. Like this isn't right. On so many levels. He wishes he knew what those levels were... because he knows they're there. Those damn levels. He thinks there's something else here... something deeper... and he had an idea of it. But there are other things that are on the forefront of his mind right now. Like his remorseful friend.

     Scott struggles out of his arms. He pushes Stiles aside and rushes across the room. Stiles hits the wall just as Scott jumps out of his window. Stiles calls his name, he thinks, or maybe he cusses. Maybe both. He thinks he should run after his friend, but he also think that it's highly unlikely that he'll catch up to a fleeing werewolf. He texts Allison instead. He doesn't quite explain what happened... but does say that Scott's in distress and is running away... somewhere... in a panic. That they need to find him. He'll help, of course. He will. Even if there is something else he should be trying to remember. That damn idea. But there's something more pressing right now. Like a guilt-ridden were-teen that didn't act like himself.

     Stiles tries to think of that, and nothing else. Of finding his friend. Tries to ignore that other niggling thoughts in his head. Like how _he_ should be the one feeling guilty. Not really should, as much as does. As if he had a role in it. Which he knows is ridiculous. But _could_ he have stopped it? Did he start it? Did he encourage it? He might have. He must have. Or is that absurd?

     It just seemed so much easier to think much clearer when you're not in the thick of the confusion. Of the guilt. Of the anger. Of the frustration. If he was a normal guy, he'd be okay about thinking of this like a typical guy should. In a world where there are no werewolves and men who come back from the dead. But he can't. At least that's what he tells himself. He can't afford to think like that... right? Or maybe he doesn't want to. He's not sure. He doesn't ever want to be.

     Allison calls him. She sounds panicked.

     He gives chase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pushing the plot through. Pushing it up that road. Pushing it up that hill. Pushing it up that building. If I only could... oh...
> 
> Anyway. God, why does work pile up after a little vacation? That's terrible logic! Then again, why do I expect more vacation relaxation after a vacation? It always seems to be the opposite of what I expect. Bah, hamburger. 
> 
> Back on topic. I hope that scene with Scott wasn't too bad. But I know that some people might still think that was too much. I apologize if it triggered some people. If it makes you feel better, a bit of spoilery thing- it's not Scott's fault. So try not to give him too hard a time about it?


	15. Closure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the severe lack of updates. Life gets in the way. I graduated university, stressed about job hunting (and not getting one), then getting one, then working on my novel, then *gasp* a love life! 
> 
> In other words, I suck. But my stories on this site have always been at the back of my mind. I keep on telling myself I'd come back "tomorrow" and write a chapter/finish them. But... I just suck. It never happened. 
> 
> So consider this closure. In this "last chapter" you will be told where the story would have gone. At least those who started it (and are still here... waiting...) would have /some/ form of closure. I do apologize. Perhaps, one day, I will come back and finish it properly. But for now, this chapter is all that I can give you.
> 
> And hey, if somebody wants to pick up the mantle of this story (by some miracle), more power to ya buddy. Feel free and share!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *See Chapter Summary
> 
> Just a breakdown on what could have been... it's the least I could do...

Big Plot Points:

 

BiTeck is run by a (sort-of-but-not-really) Darach.  He's old and comes from a now extinct pack.  His ultimate plan was to bring about "world peace" through mind control/removing the free will of people.  He survives the slaughter of the pack he was was the charge of, used his skills to make money and start BiTeck with the intention of using the company to further his "research" regarding accomplishing his ultimate goal.  Which involves... 
  * involves the study of the low level "telepathy" that is shared between pack members; particularly between an alpha and its pack members (I got this idea from the fact that in the show, the wolves seem to have a crude form of telekinesis with the ability to not only share memories but seemingly store them in an alpha's claws.  I also justified this train of thought with a whole bunch of really flimsy anecdotal stuff - like eye flashes/colours, howls, wolves seemingly being susceptible to various forms of psychosis, etc...).  The final goal of the Darach was global mind-control to bring about his screwed up version of world peace so that "no other man would suffer such as [he did], ever again". 
  * So this rich-ass Darach has been researching this form of "telepathy" in hopes of harnessing it its capabilities of mind control.  Brad clues Stiles in on this in Chapter 8 as "the Alpha Experiment".  Now who's the Alpha you say? 
  * There's a whole bunch!  But first and foremost there's, of course, Talia.  In my plans, Talia's "alpha consciousness" is the sort of base of the whole technology.  The Darach was able to access her body (I haven't figured out how), and was using it as a sort of the base program.  A sort of Alpha "alpha consciousness" so to speak.  She would be Skynet, so to speak.  I was going to have the Darach be in control of Talia's "alpha consciousness" by means of technology... for the most part.  But a little bit of Talia remains in the machine and completely aware of how her body/abilities were being bastardized.  Which leads us to...
  * Brad:  Brad I guess would be like the Terminator.  Connected to Skynet, but also independent from it.  Brad is, as he says (again in Chapter 8), the Primary Prototype, the First Model, artificial humanoid with relative sentience.  Brad receives orders from Talia's "Skynet" who bases its (her) actions on the Darach's programming.  But actually Brad isn't actually the First Model ever built.  He just happens to be the first successful one.  And there's a reason for that.  Brad's "consciousness" is based on another deceased Alpha's consciousness too.  And this one is, *dun dun duuuun!*, Laura Hale!  They reasons behind why Laura Hale's "biological android" had a stronger connection to Talia's "Skynet" program, whether it was due to the fact that Laura's "alphahood" was derivative of Talia's or another reason, was one of the things that the experiment was hoping to find out.  But yeah, Talia's "skynet" was in control of Brad/Laura using a techno-bastardized version of an alpha's mind control abilities.  This actually leads to another plot point that I would have revealed....
  * Brad would have become fixated on Peter and Derek!  Who was/is an Alpha (respectively) and therefore would be a valuable clue into how to further develop Talia's skynet-alpha-mind-control program.  Peter and Derek are obviously, I think anyways, desired by the Darach for really clear reasons which I don't think I need to lay out here.  Peter particularly because, in my story anyway, the Darach knows of his death and resurrection.  But where does Stiles fit into all of this?
  * Well, he's a hot piece of ass!  Oh, and also 'cause the Darach and his organization had been studying the Hale pack for quite a while and saw Stiles as an easy means of infiltrating the group because of Derek and Peter's apparent (to everyone else but Stiles himself) attachment to Stiles.  Oh, that and the Darach sensed Stiles' spark and I was gonna tie that into the plot point somehow... but I honestly I haven't/hadn't figured out how. 
  * Brad's public introduction had many purposes: 1) To see how a biologically realistic android could function in real life with real people. 2) To see if Talia's "skynet" could successfully access Brad from a distance (gain his knowledge remotely as well as direct his actions).  3) Infiltrate Derek's pack via the person that the Darach thinks is Derek's and Peter's prospective mate (Stiles).  So they did a whole bunch of studies on Stiles (like what kind of websites he frequented, and what kinds of things he was most likely to participate in) and ended up making a contest that catered specifically to Stiles' desire (the "win-an-android!" contest).  The novelty of it would have drawn Stiles, and the cost of it (the android), and other legal/business stuff, would have forced him to be an unwitting participant in a charade that would have ultimately destroyed the Hale pack (and THE WORLD! - Well not destroy so much as mind control the whole world so there's everlasting peace...)
  * Scott's "true alphaness" would have been an important counterpoint to Talia's "Skynet" mind-control-alphaness. 
  * I planned for Brad to die in the end, but I had three scenarios written down because I couldn't make up my mind to choose about which one to choose:   
  
 Scenario 1) Brad's programming to protect the Darach was absolute, so even though he did not wish to kill Stiles, the wishes of his "master" took precedence and he attempts to kill Stiles.  But the Rebel Talia unlocked enough of "Laura" so that Brad's attempts to kill stalls in the end and Brad is unable to deliver the killing blow.  It gives Stiles enough time to kill Brad instead.  In the end Brad is relieved that Stiles kills him because he did not want to end Stiles' life and yet could never have defied his master.  
  
Scenario 2)  Rebel Talia is able to overcome most of the Darach's "Talianet" and reprograms Brad to rebel against the Darach.  Brad aids the group in infiltrating the Darach's base to defeat him but dies during the effort (I wrote down that he takes a bullet for Stiles and is fatally wounded; the drawback from his biological systems.)  
  
Scenario 3)  Rebel Talia succeeds in turning Brad away from the Darach, but in the end during the group's raid to the Darach's lair, the Darach is able to corrupt Brad by playing on the human emotions that he has developed during his time with Stiles; particularly jealousy.  The corruption convinces him that the only way for him to have Stiles is by killing Derek, which he tries to do.   Derek is winning, but is unable to deliver the finishing blow because he knows how much Brad has come to mean to Stiles.  Brad takes advantage of Derek's sentimentality and turns the tables and almost kills Derek when Stiles ends up stabbing him in the back at a fatal point before Brad is able to deliver the finishing blow.  Brad dies in Stiles' arms saddened by his "betrayal".  



 

Story Stuff:

 

  * Peter would disappear for a bit, taking Danny with him, as he was suspicious of Brad.  Not only because of Brad's sudden appearance, but also the fact that Brad feels so familiar to Peter... feels like family.  Specifically family that he himself killed.  (He suspects that it involves Laura, but doesn't know how or why.)  Thus he kidnaps Danny for a bit and creates a distance between him and Beacon Hills because he suspects that Brad himself is affecting him somehow.  Danny is taken because Peter wants him to find out everything about "Brad" using his l33t hacking skillz.
  * Scott would be affected by some form of madness brought on by the "alpha waves" not only being emitted by Brad, but by Talia's "skynet" as well.  Bastardized alpha waves.  The same thing is happening to Derek, but seeing as he is 1) a born wolf, and therefore is in better control of himself, 2) shares the same "alpha waves" as both Laura and Talia, and therefore is bastardized pseudo-science effects don't affect him as much.  It also affects Peter to a lesser degree because of the fact that 1) he was an alpha 2) and that he shares/shared the same "alpha waves" as Talia and Laura as well. 
  * The madness takes the form of, more often than not, as sexy times!  Partially deliberate by the Darach's commands on Talianet, and partially because of the maddened one's deep desires (in other words, I also made it that Scott secretly, deep down, wanted to also bone Stiles). 
  * Lydia is relentlessly unnerved by Brad because of her banshee powers.  She knows that there is "death" within him (in other words, she senses Laura AND Talia - Talia because Talianet connects Brad to her "skynet).  She tries her best to ignore it though because Brad is so attractive and enjoys watching Brad affect Stiles and Derek.  (She's rooting for the two of them to get together, and thought that a love rival would help get Derek off his stubborn ass and start "TEH WOOING" of Stiles.  Yes, I wrote it as "teh".)
  * Inevitably I would have written Stiles and Peter being taken to the Darach's remote island tech base off the coast of Brown's Island.  The bad guys would further their experiments by trying the mind control crap on Stiles, and also to see how his "spark" could enhance/inhibit the mind-control "alpha waves".  Stiles would be stuck in a dream world where all his desires come true.  It involves lots of sexy times.  Lots and lots of sexy times.  LOTS.  With multiple people.  Separately and all at once.  But his dream state would have been broken by the Rebel Talia consciousness who's fighting the Darak's efforts to bastardize and use her abilities.  The mental Rebel Talia would have filled Stiles in on everything (including telling him that Brad actually houses Laura's consciousness) and what the Darach hopes to ultimately accomplish and how far the Darach and his company has gone.  Rebel Talia reveals that although she cannot fully control Talianet (and actually, she's loosing to the Darach), she was able to subtly help Stiles by doing some small things like:  push Laura/Brad to purposely reveal stuff about the Darach's company and intentions, stop Brad from hurting people during instances where he was programmed to by Talianet, clue people in on the location of the mastermind - the Darach himself.  
  * I wrote a scene where Stiles is all naked, breaking out of a test tube with wires all over his body (with Rebel Talia being able to influence Talianet to release him from the dream program and the test tube).  Then Stiles has a daring escape out of the facility with Rebel Talia helping him as best as she could by opening doors for him and blocking paths so people don't catch him.  It culminates with Stiles jumping off a cliff and into the water.  Then once again Rebel Talia helps him one last time by helping him use a payphone for free to contact Derek to pick him up in Pittsburgh.  Naked.  Shivering.  There would have been sexy times again. 
  * Wrote a scene I really liked where Stiles and the Darach are talking.  The Darach reveals his plot and his reasoning behind it.  Tries to tell Stiles that it's for world peace.  Stiles tells him to fuck off.  So to speak.  (Not these are just scenes that I've written, outside of chapters.  Just blocks of text really that I would have inevitably inserted into the story at a certain point and therefore are incomplete themselves.)
  * There would have been a scene where Stiles and Derek ends up slow dancing to Louis Armstrong's "Body and Soul" near the waterfront in the middle of the night; under the stars. 
  * Peter would have died in the end.  Derek almost dies in the end, but Peter redeems himself by preventing Derek's death.  His last gift to his sister (Talia).  I would have written his last seen in the story as Peter facing Talia in the dream world, Talia extends a hand towards him which Peter takes with a relieved smile on his face before they both fade into oblivion.
  * I contemplated on killing Jackson, Lydia, and Scott.  Jackson 'cause I like him as an anti-hero and would have been nice to see him to a redemption thing himself.  But I doubt it since I already had Peter for that.  Lydia because I was thinking it would be an inevitable fate considering her connection to death.  And Scott because he generally pisses me off. 
  * The story would have ended with a flash forward.  Years later Stiles would be holding their new daughter between Derek and him.  They choose to name her Laura.  (I played with the idea of them having three kids, 2 girls and one boy: Talia, Laura and... Brad.  But I thought Brad might be a bit icky at that point, so wasn't sure). The last scene would be with Derek and Stiles slowly dancing to "Body and Soul" with Laura in their arms.  *End scene*



 

Mmm... that's all I can think of writing for now.  Anything you wanna know that I missed out on explaining?  Of what could have been?  Other characters or plot points that I missed out on providing a closure for? 

 

I'm sorry that this is all I can do for now... maybe I will pick it up again one day... one day... T_T

 

Thank you very much for reading and the patience and effort you've invested in this story.  I regret that I failed to complete this and that I've disappointed you fantastic readers out there in the dark.  For now, I hope that this is enough, however little this may be.  It was a joy to write and share this story with all of you. 

 

 


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